>ji 


COPYRIGHT.     1914,    BY     DANIEL     FROHMAN 


CHARLES  FROHMAN 


Charles  trohman: 

Manager  and  Man 

by    Isaac    F.    Marcosson 
and    Daniel    Frohman 

T/ir/^ii^  ^^^  Appreciation 
rr    by  James  M.  Bar  vie 


Illustrated 

with 
Portraits 


r 


New   York  and  London 

Harper    £^     l^rothers 

M  .  C  .  M  .  X  .   V  .  I 


Charles  Frohman:    Manager  and  Man 


Copyright,   1916,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 

Copyright,   1915,   1916,  by 

International  Magazine  Company  (Cosmopolitan  Magazine) 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 

Published  October,  1916 

i-Q 


s 


To 

The  Theater 

That    Charles   Frohman 

Loved  and  Served 


Nought  I  did  in  hate  but  all  in  honor! 

Hamlet 


Contents 


CHAP.  PAGE 

CHARLES  F  ROHM  AN:    AN  APPRECIATION    .... 

I.            A  CHILD  AMID  THE  THEATER / 

//.          EARLY  HARDSHIPS  ON  THE  ROAD 24 

III.        PICTURESQUE  DAYS  AS  MINSTREL  MANAGER  .     .  46 

IF.         IN  THE  NEW  YORK  THEATRICAL  WHIRLPOOL  .     .  67 

V.  BOOKING-AGENT  AND  BROADWAY  PRODUCER    .     .  87 

VI.  "  SHENANDOAH"  AND  THE  FIRST  STOCK  COMPANY  ^  114 

VII .  JOHN  DREW  AND  THE  EMPIRE  THEATER       .    .    .  135 

VIII.  MAUDE  ADAMS  AS  STAR 138 

IX.  THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  SYNDICATE 185 

X.  THE  RISE  OF  ETHEL  BARRY  MO  RE 212 

XL         THE  CONQUEST  OF  THE  LONDON  STAGE     .    ...  230 

XII.  BARRIE  AND  THE  ENGLISH  FRIENDSHIPS      .    .    .  253 

XIII.  A  GALAXY  OF  STARS 276 

XIV.  STAR-MAKING  AND  AUDIENCES 290 

XV.  PLAYS  AND  PLAYERS 303 

XVI.  "C.  F."  AT  REHEARSALS 326 

XVII.  HUMOR  AND  ANECDOTE 340 

XVIII.  THE  MAN  FROHMAN 358 

XIX.  "WHY  FEAR  DEATH?" 376 

APPENDIX  A— THE  LETTERS  OF  CHARLES  FROH- 
MAN      393 

APPENDIX   B— COMPLETE    CHRONOLOGICAL    LIST 

OF  THE  FROHMAN  PRODUCTIONS 421 


Illustrations 


CHARLES  FROHMAN Frontispiece 

VIOLA  ALLEN Facing  p.  84 

WILLIAM  GILLETTE 

JOHN  DREW 

CLYDE  FITCH 

HENRY  ARTHUR  JONES 

W.  LESTOCQ     

CHARLES  DILLINGHAM 

MAUDE  ADAMS 

MAUDE  ADAMS       

FRANCIS  WILSON 

WILLIAM  COLLIER 

MARGARET  AN G LIN 

ANNIE  RUSSELL 

WILLIAM  FAVERSHAM 

HENRY  MILLER 

WILLIAM  H.  CRANE 

AUGUSTUS  THOMAS 

SIR  ARTHUR  WING  PI  NERO 

ETHEL  BARRYMORE 

JULIA  MARLOWE 

E.  H.  SOTHERN 

ELSIE  FERGUSON 

EDNA  MAY 

BILLIE  BURKE 

PAULINE  CHASE 

JAMES  M.  BARRIE 

PAUL  POTTER 


114 

136 
140 
140 
152 
156 
160 
170 
188 
188 
192 
192 
198 
202 
206 
210 
210 
220 
224 
228 

234 
240 
244 
250 
254 
264 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

HADDON  CHAMBERS 

OTIS  SKINNER 

MARIE  DORO 

JULIA  SANDERSON 

ANN  MURDOCK 

CHARLES  F  ROHM  AN  AND  DAVID  BEL  A  SCO    .    .     .     . 

MARIE  TEMPEST 

MME.  NAZIMOFA 

CHARLES    FROHMAN'S    OFFICE    IN    THE    EMPIRE 

THEATER 

CHARLES  FROHMAN  ON  BOARD  SHIP 


Fao 


mg  p.  264 

274 

278 
280 
282 
286 
290 
290 

370 
384 


Charles  Frohman: 

an 
Appreciation 

By  James  M,  Barrie 

rHE  man  who  never  broke  his  word.    There  was 
a  great  deal  more  to  him,  but  every  one  in  any 
land  who  has  had  dealings  with  Charles  Frohman 
will  sign  that. 

I  would  rather  say  a  word  of  the  qualities  that  to  his 
friends  were  his  great  adornment  than  about  his  colossal 
enterprises  or  the  energy  with  which  he  heaved  them 
into  being;  his  energy  that  was  like  a  force  of  nature, 
so  that  if  he  had  ever  "retired"  from  the  work  he  loved 
(a  thing  incredible)  companies  might  have  been  formed, 
in  the  land  so  skilful  at  turning  energy  to  practical  ac- 
count, for  exploiting  the  vitality  of  this  Niagara  of  a 
man.     They  could  have  lit  a  city  with  it. 

He  loved  his  schemes.  They  were  a  succession  of 
many-colored  romances  to  him,  and  were  issued  to  the 
world  not  without  the  accompaniment  of  the  drum, 
but  you  would  never  find  him  saying  anything  of  him- 
self.    He  pushed  them  in  front  of  him,  always  taking 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

care  that  they  were  big  enough  to  hide  him.  When 
they  were  able  to  stand  alone  he  stole  out  in  the  dark 
to  have  a  look  at  them,  and  then  if  unobserved  his 
bosom  swelled.  I  have  never  known  any  one  more 
modest  and  no  one  quite  so  shy.  Many  actors  have 
played  for  him  for  years  and  never  spoken  to  him,  have 
perhaps  seen  him  dart  up  a  side  street  because  they 
were  approaching.  They  may  not  have  known  that  it 
was  sheer  shyness,  but  it  was.  I  have  seen  him  ordered 
out  of  his  own  theater  by  subordinates  who  did  not 
know  him,  and  he  went  cheerfully  away.  "Good  men, 
these;  they  know  their  business,"  was  all  his  comment. 
Afterward  he  was  shy  of  going  back  lest  they  should 
apologize. 

At  one  time  he  had  several  theaters  here  and  was 
renting  others,  the  while  he  had  I  know  not  how  many 
in  America;  he  was  not  always  sure  how  many  himself. 
Latterly  the  great  competition  at  home  left  him  no 
time  to  look  after  more  than  one  in  London.  But  only 
one  anywhere  seemed  a  little  absurd  to  him.  He  once 
contemplated  having  a  few  theaters  in  Paris,  but  on  dis- 
covering that  French  law  forbids  your  having  more  than 
one  he  gave  up  the  scheme  in  disgust. 

A  sense  of  humor  sat  with  him  through  every  vicissi- 
tude like  a  faithful  consort. 

''How  is  it  going?"  a  French  author  cabled  to  him  on 
the  first  night  of  a  new  play. 

"It  has  gone,"  he  genially  cabled  back. 

Of  a  Scotch  play  of  my  own  that  he  was  about  to 
produce  in  New  York,  I  asked  him  what  the  Scotch 
would  be  like. 

"You  wouldn't  know  it  was  Scotch,"  he  replied,  "but 
the  American  public  will  know." 


AN    APPRECIATION 

He  was  very  dogged.  I  had  only  one  quarrel  with 
him,  but  it  lasted  all  the  sixteen  years  I  knew  him.  He 
wanted  me  to  be  a  playwright  and  I  wanted  to  be  a 
novelist.  All  those  years  I  fought  him  on  that.  He 
always  won,  but  not  because  of  his  doggedness;  only 
because  he  was  so  lovable  that  one  had  to  do  as  he 
wanted.  He  also  threatened,  if  I  stopped,  to  reproduce 
the  old  plays  and  print  my  name  in  large  electric  letters 
over  the  entrance  of  the  theater. 

/I  VERY  distinguished  actress  under  his  management 
wanted  to  produce  a  play  of  mine  of  which  he  had 
no  high  opinion.  He  was  in  despair,  as  he  had  something 
much  better  for  her.  She  was  obdurate.  He  came  to 
me  for  help,  said  nothing  could  move  her  unless  I  could. 
Would  not  I  tell  her  what  a  bad  play  it  was  and  how 
poor  her  part  was  and  how  much  better  the  other  parts 
were  and  how  absolutely  it  fell  to  pieces  after  the  first 
act  ?  Of  course  I  did  as  I  was  bid,  and  I  argued  with  the 
woman  for  hours,  and  finally  got  her  round,  the  while 
he  sat  cross-legged,  after  his  fashion,  on  a  deep  chair 
and  implored  me  with  his  eyes  to  do  my  worst.  It 
happened  long  ago,  and  I  was  so  obsessed  with  the  desire 
to  please  him  that  the  humor  of  the  situation  strikes  me 
only  now. 

For  money  he  did  not  care  at  all;  it  was  to  him  but 
pieces  of  paper  with  which  he  could  make  practical  the 
enterprises  that  teemed  in  his  brain.  They  were  all 
enterprises  of  the  theater.  Having  once  seen  a  theater, 
he  never  afterward  saw  anything  else  except  sites  for 
theaters.  This  passion  began  when  he  was  a  poor  boy 
staring  wistfully  at  portals  out  of  which  he  was  kept  by 
the  want  of  a  few  pence.     I  think  when  he  first  saw  a 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

theater  he  clapped  his  hand  to  his  heart,  and  certainly 
he  was  true  to  his  first  love.  Up  to  the  end  it  was  still 
the  same  treat  to  him  to  go  in;  he  still  thrilled  when 
the  band  struck  up,  as  if  that  boy  had  hold  of  his  hand. 

TN  a  sense  he  had  no  illusions  about  the  theater,  knew 
its  tawdriness  as  he  knew  the  nails  on  his  stages  (he 
is  said  to  have  known  every  one).  He  would  watch  the 
performance  of  a  play  in  some  language  of  which  he  did 
not  know  a  word  and  at  the  end  tell  you  not  only  the 
whole  story,  but  what  the  characters  had  been  saying  to 
one  another;  indeed,  he  could  usually  tell  what  was  to 
happen  in  any  act  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  arrangement  of 
the  furniture.  But  this  did  not  make  him  blase — a 
strange  word,  indeed,  to  apply  to  one  who  seemed  to 
be  born  afresh  each  morning.  It  was  not  so  much  that 
all  the  world  was  a  stage  to  him  as  that  his  stage  was  a 
world,  a  world  of  the  "artistic  temperament" — that  is 
to  say,  a  very  childish  world  of  which  he  was  occasionally 
the  stern  but  usually  indulgent  father. 

His  innumerable  companies  were  as  children  to  him; 
he  chided  them  as  children,  soothed  them,  forgave  them, 
and  certainly  loved  them  as  children.  He  exulted  in 
those  who  became  great  names  in  that  world  and  gave 
them  beautiful  toys  to  play  with;  but,  great  as  was 
their  devotion  to  him,  it  is  not  they  who  will  miss  him 
most,  but  rather  the  far  greater  number  who  never 
"made  a  hit,"  but  set  off  like  the  rest  to  do  it  and  fell 
by  the  way.  He  was  of  so  sympathetic  a  nature,  h< 
understood  so  well  the  dismalness  to  them  of  being 
"failures,"  that  he  saw  them  as  children  with  their 
knuckles  to  their  eyes,  and  then  he  sat  back  cross- 
legged  on  his  chair  with  his  knuckles,  as  it  were,  to  his 


AN    APPRECIATION 

eyes,  and  life  had  lost  its  flavor  for  him  until  he  invented 
a  scheme  for  giving  them  another  chance. 

y^UTHORS  of  to-day  sometimes  discuss  with  one  an- 
other what  great  writer  of  the  past  they  would  like 
most  to  spend  an  evening  with  if  the  shades  were 
willing  to  respond,  and  I  believe  (and  hope)  that  the 
choice  most  often  falls  on  Johnson  or  Charles  Lamb. 
Lamb  was  fond  of  the  theater,  and  I  think,  of  all  those 
connected  with  it  that  I  have  known,  Mr.  Frohman  is 
the  one  with  whom  he  would  most  have  liked  to  spend 
an  evening.  Not  because  of  Mr.  Frohman 's  ability, 
though  he  had  the  biggest  brain  I  have  met  with  on  the 
stage,  but  because  of  his  humor  and  charity  and  gentle 
chivalry  and  his  most  romantic  mind.  One  can  con- 
ceive him  as  often,  sitting  at  ease,  far  back  in  his  chair, 
cross-legged,  occasionally  ringing  for  another  ice,  for 
he  was  so  partial  to  sweets  that  he  could  never  get  them 
sweet  enough,  and  sometimes  he  mixed  two  in  the  hope 
that  this  would  make  them  sweeter. 

I  hear  him  telling  stories  of  the  stage  as  only  he  could 
tell  them,  rising  now  and  roaming  the  floor  as  he  shows 
how  the  lady  of  the  play  receives  the  declaration,  and 
perhaps  forgetting  that  you  are  the  author  of  the  play 
and  telling  you  the  whole  story  of  it  with  superb  gesture 
and  gleaming  eyes.  Then  back  again  cross-legged  to  the 
chair.  What  an  essay  Elia  might  have  made  of  that 
night,  none  of  it  about  the  stories  told,  all  about  the 
man  in  the  chair,  the  humorous,  gentle,  roughly  educated, 
very  fine  American  gentleman  in  the  chair! 

J.  M.  Barrie. 

London,  191 5. 


Charles  Frohman 


Charles  Frohman 


A    CHILD    AMID    THE    THEATER 

^^NE  evening,  toward  the  close  of  the  'sixties,  a 
\^  I  plump,  rosy-cheeked  lad  in  his  eighth  year  stood 
enthralled  in  the  gallery  of  the  old  Niblo's  Garden 
down  on  lower  Broadway  in  New  York.  Far  below  him 
on  the  stage  "The  Black  Crook" — the  extravaganza  that 
held  all  New  York — unfolded  itself  in  fascinating  glitter 
and  feminine  loveliness.  Deaf  to  his  brother's  en- 
treaties to  leave,  and  risking  a  parental  scolding  and 
worse,  the  boy  remained  transfixed  until  the  final  cur- 
tain. When  he  reached  home  he  was  not  in  the  least 
disturbed  by  the  uproar  his  absence  had  caused.  Quite 
the  contrary.  His  face  beamed,  his  eyes  shone.  All  he 
could  say  was : 

"I  have  seen  a  play.     It's  wonderful!" 

The  boy  was  Charles  Frohman,  and  such  was  his  first 
actual  experience  in  the  theater — the  institution  that  he 
was  to  dominate  in  later  years  with  far-flung  authority. 

To  write  of  the  beginnings  of  his  life  is  to  become  al- 
most immediately  the  historian  of  some  phase  of  amuse- 

I 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

ment.  He  came  from  a  family  in  whom  the  love  of 
mimic  art  was  as  innate  as  the  desire  for  sustenance. 

About  his  parents  was  the  glamour  of  a  romance  as 
tender  as  any  he  disclosed  to  dehghted  audiences  in  the 
world  of  make-believe.  His  father,  Henry  Frohman, 
was  both  idealist  and  dreamer.  Born  on  the  pleasant 
countryside  that  encircles  the  town  of  Darmstadt  in 
Germany,  he  grew  up  amid  an  appreciation  of  the  best 
in  German  literature.  He  was  a  buoyant  and  imagina- 
tive boy  who  preferred  reading  plays  to  poring  over 
tiresome  school-books. 

One  day  he  went  for  a  walk  in  the  woods.  He  passed 
a  young  girl  of  rare  and  appealing  beauty.  Their  eyes 
met ;  they  paused  a  moment,  irresistibly  drawn  to  each 
other.  Then  they  went  their  separate  ways.  He  in- 
quired her  name  and  found  that  she  was  Barbara  Strauss 
and  lived  not  far  away.  He  sought  an  introduction, 
but  before  it  could  be  brought  about  he  left  home  to 
make  his  fortune  in  the  New  World. 

He  was  eighteen  when  he  stepped  down  the  gang- 
plank of  a  steamer  in  New  York  in  1845.  He  had  mas- 
tered no  trade;  he  was  practically  without  friends,  so 
he  took  to  the  task  which  so  many  of  his  co-religionists 
had  found  profitable.  He  invested  his  modest  financial 
nest-egg  in  a  supply  of  dry  goods  and  notions  and,  shoul- 
dering a  pack,  started  up  the  Hudson  Valley  to  peddle 
his  wares. 

Henry  Frohman  had  a  magnetic  and  fascinating  per- 
sonality. A  ready  story  was  always  on  his  lips ;  a  smile 
shone  constantly  on  his  face.  It  was  said  of  him  that 
he  could  hypnotize  the  most  unresponsive  housewife  into 
buying  articles  she  never  needed.  Up  and  down  the  high- 
ways he  trudged,  unmindful  of  wind,  rain,  or  hardship. 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

New  York  was  his  headquarters.  There  was  his  home 
and  there  he  replenished  his  stocks.  He  made  friends 
quickly.  With  them  he  often  went  to  the  German 
theater.  On  one  of  these  occasions  he  heard  of  a 
family  named  Strauss  that  had  just  arrived  from  Ger- 
many. They  had  been  shipwrecked  near  the  Azores, 
had  endured  many  trials,  and  had  lost  everything  but 
their  lives. 

"Have  they  a  daughter  named  Barbara?"  asked 
Frohman. 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply. 

Henry  Frohman 's  heart  gave  a  leap.  There  came 
back  to  his  mind  the  picture  of  that  day  in  the  German 
woods. 

"Where  do  they  come  from?"  he  continued,  eagerly. 

On  being  told  that  it  was  Darmstadt,  he  cried,  'T  must 
meet  her." 

He  gave  his  friend  no  peace  until  that  end  had  been 
brought  about.  He  found  her  the  same  lovely  girl  who 
had  thrilled  him  at  first  sight ;  he  wooed  her  with  ardor 
and  they  were  betrothed. 

He  now  yearned  for  a  stable  business  that  would  enable 
him  to  marry.  Meanwhile  his  affairs  had  grown.  The 
peddler's  pack  expanded  to  the  proportion  of  a  wagon- 
load.  Then,  as  always,  the  great  West  held  a  lure  for 
the  youthful.  In  some  indescribable  way  he  got  the 
idea  that  Kentucky  was  the  Promised  Land  of  business. 
Telling  his  fiancee  that  he  would  send  for  her  as  soon  as 
he  had  settled  somewhere,  he  set  out. 

But  Kentucky  did  not  prove  to  be  the  golden  country. 
He  was  advised  to  go  to  Ohio,  and  it  was  while  driving 
across  the  country  with  his  line  of  goods  that  he  came 
upon  Sandusky.     The  little  town  on  the  shores  of  a  smil- 

3 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

ing  lake  appealed  to  him  strongly.  It  reminded  him 
of  the  home  country,  and  he  remained  there. 

He  found  himself  at  once  in  a  congenial  place.  There 
was  a  considerable  German  population ;  his  ready  wit  and 
engaging  manner  made  him  welcome  everywhere.  The 
road  lost  its  charm;  he  turned  about  for  an  occupation 
that  was  permanent.  Having  picked  up  a  knowledge 
of  cigar-making,  he  established  a  small  factory  which 
was  successful  from  the  start. 

This  fact  assured,  his  next  act  was  to  send  to  New  York 
for  Miss  Strauss,  who  joined  him  at  once,  and  they  were 
married.  These  were  the  forebears  of  Charles  Frohman 
— the  exuberant,  optimistic,  pleasure-loving  father;  the 
serene,  gentle-eyed,  and  spacious-hearted  woman  who 
was  to  have  such  a  strong  influence  in  the  shaping  of  his 
character. 

The  Frohmans  settled  in  a  little  frame  house  on 
Lawrence  Street  that  stood  apart  from  the  dusty  road. 
It  did  not  even  have  a  porch.  Unpretentious  as  it  was, 
it  became  a  center  of  artistic  life  in  Sandusky. 

Henry  Frohman  had  always  aspired  to  be  an  actor. 
One  of  the  first  things  he  did  after  settling  in  Sandusky 
was  to  organize  an  amateur  theatrical  company,  com- 
posed entirely  of  people  of  German  birth  or  descent. 
The  performances  were  given  in  the  Turner  Hall,  in  the 
German  tongue,  on  a  makeshift  stage  with  improvised 
scenery.  Frohman  became  the  directing  force  in  the 
production  of  Schiller's  and  other  classic  German  plays, 
comic  as  well  as  tragic. 

Nor  was  he  half-hearted  in  his  histrionic  work.  One 
night  he  died  so  realistically  on  the  stage  that  his  eldest 
son,  who  sat  in  the  audience,  became  so  terrified  that  he 
screamed  out  in  terror,  and  would  not  be  pacified  until 

4 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

his  parent  appeared  smilingly  before  the  curtain  and  as- 
sured him  that  he  was  still  very  much  alive. 

Frohman's  business  prospered.  He  began  to  build  up 
trade  in  the  adjoining  country.  With  a  load  of  samples 
strapped  behind  his  buggy,  he  traveled  about.  He 
usually  took  one  of  his  older  sons  along.  While  he  drove, 
the  boy  often  held  a  prompt-book  and  the  father  would 
rehearse  his  parts.  Out  across  those  quiet  Ohio  fields 
would  come  the  thrilling  words  of  "The  Robbers," 
"Ingomar,"  "Love  and  Intrigue,"  or  any  of  the  many 
plays  that  the  amateur  company  performed  in  Sandusky. 

He  even  mixed  the  drama  with  business.  Frequently 
after  selling  a  bill  of  goods  he  would  be  requested  by  a 
customer,  who  knew  of  his  ability,  to  recite  or  declaim  a 
speech  from  one  of  the  well-known  German  plays. 

It  was  on  his  return  from  one  of  these  expeditions  that 
Henry  Frohman  was  greeted  with  the  tidings  that  a 
third  son  had  come  to  bear  his  name.  When  he  entered 
that  little  frame  house  the  infantile  Charles  had  made  his 
first  entrance  on  the  stage  of  life.  It  was  June  17,  i860, 
a  time  fateful  in  the  history  of  the  country,  for  already 
the  storm-clouds  of  the  Civil  War  were  brooding.  It  was 
pregnant  with  meaning  for  the  American  theater,  too, 
because  this  lusty  baby  was  to  become  its  Napoleon. 

Almost  before  Charles  was  able  to  walk  his  wise  and 
far-seeing  mother,  with  a  pride  and  responsibility  that 
maintained  the  best  traditions  of  the  mothers  in  Israel, 
began  to  realize  the  restrictions  and  limitations  of  the 
Sandusky  life. 

"These  boys  of  ours,"  she  said  to  the  husband,  "have 
no  future  here.  They  must  be  educated  in  New  York. 
Their  careers  lie  there." 

5 


b 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Strong-willed  and  resolute,  she  sent  the  two  older  sons, 
one  at  a  time,  on  to  the  great  city  to  be  educated  and 
make  their  way.  The  eldest,  Daniel,  went  first,  soon 
followed  by  Gustave.  In  1864,  and  largely  due  to  her 
insistent  urging,  the  remainder  of  the  family,  which 
included  the  youthful  Charles,  packed  up  their  belong- 
ings and,  with  the  proceeds  of  the  sale  of  the  cigar  factory, 
started  on  their  eventful  journey  to  New  York. 

They  first  settled  in  one  of  the  original  tenement 
houses  of  New  York,  on  Rivington  Street,  subsequently 
moving  to  Eighth  Street  and  Avenue  D.  Before  long 
they  moved  over  to  Third  Street,  while  their  fourth 
residence  was  almost  within  the  shadow  of  some  of  the 
best-known  city  theaters. 

Henry  Frohman  had,  as  was  later  developed  in  his  son 
Charles,  a  peculiar  disregard  of  money  values.  Generous 
to  a  fault,  his  resources  were  constantly  at  the  call  of  the 
needy.  His  first  business  venture  in  New  York — a  small 
soap  factory  on  East  Broadway — failed.  Later  he  be- 
came part  owner  of  a  distillery  near  Hoboken,  which 
was  destroyed  by  fire.  With  the  usual  Frohman  financial 
heedlessness,  he  had  failed  to  renew  all  his  insurance 
policies,  and  the  result  was  that  he  was  left  with  but  a 
small  surplus.  Adversity,  however,  seemed  to  trickle 
from  him  like  water.  Serene  and  smiling,  he  emerged 
from  his  misfortune. 

The  only  business  he  knew  was  the  cigar  business. 
With  the  assistance  of  a  few  friends  he  was  able  to  start 
a  retail  cigar-store  at  what  was  then  708  Broadway. 
It  was  below  Eighth  Street  and,  whether  by  accident 
or  design,  was  located  in  the  very  heart  of  the  famous 
theatrical  district  which  gave  the  American  stage  some 
of  its  greatest  traditions. 

6 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

To  the  north,  and  facing  on  Union  Square,  was  the 
Rialto  of  the  day,  hedged  in  by  the  old  Academy  of 
Music  and  the  Union  Square  Theater.  Down  Broad- 
way, and  commencing  at  Thirteenth  Street  with  Wal- 
lack's  Theater,  was  a  succession  of  more  or  less  historic 
playhouses.  At  Eighth  Street  was  the  Old  New  York 
Theater;  a  few  doors  away  was  Lina  Edwins's;  almost 
flanking  the  cigar-store  and  ranging  toward  the  south 
were  the  Olympic,  Niblo's  Garden,  and  the  San  Francisco 
Minstrel  Hall.  Farther  down  w^as  the  Broadway 
Theater,  while  over  on  the  Bowery  Tony  Pastor  held 
forth. 

Thus  the  little  store  stood  in  an  atmosphere  that 
thought,  breathed,  and  talked  of  the  theater.  It  became 
the  rendezvous  of  the  well-known  theatrical  figures  of 
the  period.  The  influence  of  the  playhouses  extended 
even  to  the  shop  next  door,  which  happened  to  be  the 
original  book-store  founded  by  August  Brentano.  It 
was  the  only  clearing-house  in  New  York  for  foreign 
theatrical  papers,  and  to  it  came  Augustin  Daly,  William 
Winter,  Nym  Crinkle,  and  all  the  other  important  man- 
agers and  critics  to  get  the  news  of  the  foreign  stage. 

It  was  amid  an  environment  touching  the  theater 
at  every  point  that  Charles  Frohman's  boyhood  was 
spent.  He  was  an  impulsive,  erratic,  restless  child. 
His  mother  had  great  difficulty  in  keeping  him  at 
school.     His  whole  instinct  was  for  action. 

Gustave,  who  had  dabbled  in  the  theatrical  business 
almost  before  he  was  in  his  teens,  naturally  became  his 
mentor.  To  Charles,  Gustave  was  invested  with  a  rare 
fascination  because  he  had  begun  to  sell  books  of  the 
opera  in  the  old  Academy  of  Music  on  Fourteenth 
Street,  the  forerunner  of  the  gilded  Metropolitan  Opera 

7 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

House.  Every  night  the  chubby  Charles  saw  him  forge 
forth  with  a  mysterious  bundle,  and  return  with  money 
jingHng  in  his  pocket.  One  night,  just  before  Gustave 
started  out,  the  lad  said  to  him: 

**Gus,  how  can  I  make  money  like  you?" 

**I'll  show  you  some  night  if  you  can  slip  away  from 
mother,"  was  the  brother's  reply. 

Unrest  immediately  filled  the  heart  of  Charles.  Gus- 
tave had  no  peace  until  he  made  good  his  promise.  A 
week  later  he  stole  away  after  supper  with  his  little 
brother.  They  walked  to  the  Academy,  where  the  old 
Italian  opera,  "The  Masked  Ball,"  was  being  sung. 
With  wondering  eyes  and  beating  heart  Charles  saw 
Gustave  hawk  his  books  in  the  lobby,  and  actually  sell 
a  few.  From  the  inside  came  the  strains  of  music,  and 
through  the  door  a  glimpse  of  a  fashionable  audience. 
But  it  was  a  forbidden  land  that  he  could  not  enter. 

Fearful  of  the  maternal  scolding  that  he  knew  was  in 
store,  Gustave  hurried  his  brother  home,  even  indulging 
in  the  unwonted  luxury  of  riding  on  the  street-car,  where 
he  found  a  five-dollar  bill.  The  mother  was  up  and 
awake,  and  immediately  began  to  upbraid  him  for 
taking  out  his  baby  brother  at  night,  whereupon  Gustave 
quieted  the  outburst  by  permitting  Charles  to  hand  over 
the  five-dollar  bill  as  a  peace  offering. 

From  that  hour  life  had  a  new  meaning  for  Charles 
Frohman.  He  had  seen  his  brother  earn  money  in  the 
theater;  he  wanted  to  go  and  do  likewise.  The  oppor- 
tunity was  denied,  and  he  chafed  under  the  restraint. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  he  was  through  with  the  school 
that  he  hated,  the  boy  went  dowm  to  his  father's  store 
and  took  his  turn  behind  the  counter.  Irksome  as  w^as 
this  work,  it  was  not  without  a  thrilling  compensation, 

8 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

because  into  the  shop  came  many  of  the  theatrical  per- 
sonages of  the  time  to  buy  their  cigars.  They  included 
Tony  Pastor,  whose  name  was  then  a  household  word, 
McKee  Rankin,  J.  K.  Mortimer,  a  popular  Augustin 
Daly  leading  man,  and  the  comedians  and  character 
actors  of  the  near-by  theaters. 

Here  the  magnetic  personality  of  the  boy  asserted 
itself.  His  ready  smile  and  his  quick  tongue  made  him 
a  favorite  with  the  customers.  More  than  one  actor, 
on  entering  the  shop,  asked  the  question:  "Where  is 
Charley?     I  want  him  to  wait  on  me." 

In  those  days  much  of  the  theatrical  advertising  was 
done  by  posters  displayed  in  shop-windows.  To  get 
these  posters  in  the  most  conspicuous  places  passes  were 
given  to  the  shopkeepers,  a  custom  which  still  holds. 
The  Frohman  store  had  a  large  window,  and  it  was  con- 
stantly plastered  with  play-bills,  which  meant  that  the 
family  was  abundantly  supplied  with  free  admission  to 
most  of  the  theaters  in  the  district.  The  whole  family 
shared  in  this  dispensation,  none  more  so  than  Henry 
Frohman  himself,  who  could  now  gratify  his  desire  for 
contact  with  the  theater  and  its  people  to  an  almost 
unlimited  extent.  His  greatest  delight  was  to  distribute 
these  passes  among  his  boys.  They  were  offered  as 
rewards  for  good  conduct.  Charles  frequently  accom- 
panied his  father  to  matinees  at  Tony  Pastor's  and  the 
other  theaters.  Pastor  and  the  elder  Frohman  were 
great  pals.  They  called  each  other  by  their  first  names, 
and  the  famous  old  music-hall  proprietor  was  a  frequent 
visitor  at  the  shop. 

But  Charles  became  quite  discriminating.  Every 
Saturday  night  he  went  down  to  the  old  Theatre  Comique, 
where  Harrigan  and  Hart  were  serving  their  apprentice- 
2  9 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

ship  for  the  career  which  made  them  the  most  famous 
Irish  team  of  their  time.  The  next  morning  at  break- 
fast he  kept  the  family  roaring  with  laughter  with  his 
imitations  of  what  he  had  seen  and  heard.  Curiously 
enough,  Tony  Hart  later  became  the  first  star  to  be 
presented  by  Charles  Frohman. 

All  the  while  the  boy's  burning  desire  was  to  earn 
money  in  the  theater.  He  nagged  at  Gustave  to  give 
him  a  chance.  One  day  Gustave  saw  some  handsome 
souvenir  books  of  ''The  Black  Crook,"  which  was  then 
having  its  sensatioal  run  at  Niblo's  Garden.  He  found 
that  he  could  buy  them  for  thirty-three  cents  by  the 
half-dozen,  so  he  made  a  small  investment,  hoping  to 
sell  them  for  fifty  cents  in  the  lobby  of  the  theater.  That 
evening  he  showed  his  new  purchases  to  Charles. 

Immediately  the  boy's  eyes  sparkled.  **Let  me  see  if 
I  can  sell  one  of  them!" 

"All  right,"  replied  Gustave;  "I  will  take  you  down 
to  Niblo's  to-night  and  give  you  a  chance." 

The  boy  could  scarcely  eat  his  supper,  so  eager  was 
he  to  be  off.  Promptly  at  seven  o'clock  the  two  lads 
(Charles  was  only  eight)  took  their  stand  in  the  lobby, 
but  despite  their  eager  cries  each  was  able  to  sell  only 
a  single  copy.  Gustave  consoled  himself  with  the  fact 
that  the  price  was  too  high,  while  Charles,  with  an 
optimism  that  never  forsook  him,  answered,  ''Well,  we 
have  each  sold  one,  anyhow,  and  that  is  something." 

Charles's  profit  on  this  venture  was  precisely  seventeen 
cents,  which  may  be  regarded  as  the  first  money  he  ever 
earned  out  of  the  theater. 

But  this  night  promised  a  sensation  even  greater. 
As  the  crowd  in  the  lobby  thinned,  the  strains  of  the 
overture  crashed  out.     Through  the  open  door  the  little 

lO 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

boy  saw  the  curtain  rise  on  a  scene  that  to  him  repre- 
sented the  gHtter  and  the  glory  of  fairyland.  Beautiful 
ladies  danced  and  sang  and  the  light  flashed  on  brilliant 
costumes.  With  their  unsold  books  in  their  hands,  the 
two  boys  gazed  wistfully  inside.  Charles,  always  the 
aggressor,  fixed  the  doorkeeper  with  one  of  his  winning 
smiles,  and  the  doorkeeper  succumbed.  *'You  boys  can 
slip  in,"  he  said,  "but  you've  got  to  go  up  in  the  bal- 
cony." Up  they  rushed,  and  there  Charles  stood  de- 
lighted, his  eyes  sparkling  and  his  whole  face  transfigured. 

During  the  middle  of  the  second  act  Gustave  tugged 
at  his  sleeve,  saying:  ''We'll  have  to  go  now.  You 
follow  me  down." 

With  this  he  disappeared  and  hurried  home.  When 
he  arrived  he  found  the  home  in  an  uproar  because 
Charles  had  not  come  back.  Gustave  ran  to  the  theater, 
but  the  play  was  over,  the  crowd  had  dispersed,  and  the 
building  was  deserted.  With  beating  heart  and  fearful 
of  disaster  to  his  charge,  he  rushed  back  to  see  Charles, 
all  animation  and  excitement,  in  the  midst  of  the  family 
group,  regaHng  them  with  the  story  of  his  first  play.  He 
had  remained  to  the  end. 

That  thrilHng  night  at  "The  Black  Crook,"  his  daily 
contact  with  the  actors  who  came  into  the  store,  his 
frequent  visits  to  the  adjoining  playhouses,  fed  the  fire 
of  his  theatrical  interest.  The  theater  got  into  his  very 
blood. 

A  great  event  was  impending.  Almost  within  stone 's- 
throw  of  the  little  cigar-store  where  he  sold  stogies  to 
Tony  Pastor  was  the  Old  New  York  Theater,  which,  after 
the  fashion  of  that  time,  had  undergone  the  evolution  of 
many  names,  beginning  with  the  Athenaeum,  and  con- 
tinuing imtil  it  had  come  under  the  control  of  the  three 

II 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

famous  Worrell  sisters,  who  tacked  their  name  to  it. 
Shortly  after  the  New  Year  of  1869  they  produced  the 
extravaganza  ''The  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,"  in 
which  two  of  them,  Sophie  and  Jane,  together  with 
Pauline  Markham,  one  of  the  classic  beauties  of  the 
time,  appeared.  Charles  had  witnessed  part  of  this 
extravaganza  one  afternoon.  It  kindled  his  memories 
of  "The  Black  Crook,"  for  it  was  full  of  sparkle  and  color. 
Charles  and  Gustave  had  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Owen,  the  doorkeeper.  One  afternoon  they  walked  over 
to  the  theater  and  stood  in  the  lobby  listening  to  a  re- 
hearsal. 

Owen,  who  knew  the  boys'  intense  love  of  the  theater, 
spoke  up,  saying:  "We  need  an  extra  page  to-night. 
How  would  you  like  to  go  on?" 

Both  youngsters  stood  expectant.  They  loved  each 
other  dearly,  yet  here  was  one  moment  where  self- 
interest  must  prevail.  Charles  fixed  the  doorkeeper  with 
his  h3^pnotic  smile,  and  he  was  chosen.  Almost  without 
hearing  the  injunction  to  report  at  seven  o'clock,  Charles 
ran  back  to  the  store,  well-nigh  breathless  with  expec- 
tancy over  the  coming  event.  With  that  family  feeling 
w^hich  has  marked  the  Frohmans  throughout  their  whole 
life,  Gustave  hurried  down-town  to  notify  their  eldest 
brother  to  be  on  hand  for  the  grand  occasion. 

Charles  ate  no  supper,  and  was  at  the  stage-door  long 
before  seven.  Rigged  up  in  a  faded  costume,  he  carried 
a  banner  during  the  performance.  His  two  elder 
brothers  sat  in  the  gallery.  All  they  saw  in  the  entire 
brilliant  spectacle  was  the  little  Charles  and  his  faded 
flag. 

Charles  got  twenty-five  cents  for  his  evening's  work, 
and  brought  it  home  bubbling  with  pride.     To  his  great 

12 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

consternation  he  received  a  rebuke  from  his  mother  and 
the  strong  injunction  never  to  appear  on  the  stage  again. 
This  was  Charles  Frohrnan's  first  and  only  appearance 
on  any  stage.  In  the  ;'^ears  to  come,  although  he  con- 
trolled and  directed  hundreds  of  productions,  gave  em- 
ployment to  thousands  of  actors  in  this  country,  England, 
and  France,  and  ru^cd  the  destinies  of  scores  of  theaters, 
he  never  appeared  in  a  single  performance.  Nor  had 
he  a  desire  to  appear. 

It  will  be  recalled  that  in  one  way  or  another  a  great 
many  passes  for  the  theater  found  their  way  into  the 
hands  of  the  elder  Frohman,  who,  in  his  great  generosity 
of  heart,  frequently  took  many  of  the  neighboring  chil- 
dren along.  He  was  the  type  of  man  who  loves  to  be- 
stow pleasure.  But  this  made  no  difference  with  Charles. 
He  was  usually  able  to  wring  an  extra  pass  from  the  bill- 
poster or  some  of  the  actors  who  frequented  the  store. 
Hence  came  about  his  first  contract,  and  in  this  fashion: 
At  that  time  Gustave  Frohman  was  a  famous  cyclist. 
He  was  the  first  man  to  keep  a  wheel  stationary,  and  he 
won  prizes  for  doing  so.  He  had  purchased  his  bicycle 
with  savings  out  of  the  theatrical  earnings,  and  his 
bicycle  and  his  riding  became  a  source  of  great  envy  to 
Charles,  who  asked  him  one  night  if  he  would  teach  him 
how  to  ride. 

"Yes,"  replied  Gustave,  "I'll  teach  you  if  you  will 
make  a  contract  with  me  to  provide  five  dollars'  worth 
of  passes  in  return." 

"Good!"  said  Charles,  and  the  deal  was  closed. 

Gustave  kept  his  word,  and  down  in  Washington 
Place,  in  front  of  the  residence  of  old  Commodore 
Vanderbilt,  Charles  learned  to  ride.     He  kept  his  part 

13 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

of  the  contract,  too,  and  dei'vered  five  dollars'  worth  of 
passes  ahead  of  schedule  time. 

One  of  Gustave's  cycling  companions  was  the  son  of 
George  Vandenhoff,  the  famous  reader.  Through  him 
he  met  the  father,  who  engaged  h:*m  to  post  his  placards 
for  his  series  of  lectures  on  Dickens.  Charles  accom- 
panied Gustave  on  these  expeditions,  and  got  his  first 
contact  with  theatrical  advertising.  Frequently  he  held 
the  ladder  while  Gustave  climbed  up  to  hang  a  placard. 
Charles  often  employed  his  arts  to  induce  an  obdurate 
shopkeeper  to  permit  a  placard  in  his  window.  These 
cards  were  not  as  attractive  as  those  of  the  regular 
theaters  and  it  took  much  persuasion  to  secure  their 
display.  Charles  sometimes  sat  in  the  box-office  of 
Association  Hall,  where  the  Vandenhoff  lectures  were 
given  and  where  Gustave  sold  tickets.  It  was  here  that 
Charles  got  his  introduction  to  the  finance  of  the  theater. 

These  days  in  the  early  'seventies  were  picturesque  and 
carefree  for  Charles.  The  boy  was  growing  up  in  an  at- 
mosphere that,  unconsciously,  was  shaping  his  whole 
future  life.  In  the  afternoon  he  continued  his  service 
behind  the  counter,  hearing  the  actors  tell  stories  of  their 
triumphs  and  hardships.  Often  he  slipped  next  door  to 
Brentano's,  where  he  was  a  welcome  visitor  and  where 
he  pored  over  the  illustrations  in  the  theatrical  journals. 

Life  at  the  store  was  not  without  incident.  Among 
those  who  came  in  to  buy  cigars  were  the  Guy  brothers, 
famous  minstrels  of  their  time.  They  were  particular 
chums  of  Gustave,  and  they  likewise  became  great  ad- 
mirers of  the  little  Charles.  At  the  boys'  request  they 
would  step  into  the  httle  reception-room  behind  the  store 
and  practise  their  latest  steps  to  a  small  but  appreciative 
audience.     This  was  Charles  Frohman's  first  contact 

14 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

with  minstrelsy,  in  which  he  was  to  have  such  an  active 
part  later  on. 

Strangely  enough,  music  and  moving  color  always 
fascinated  Charles  Frohman.  At  that  time,  for  it  was 
scarcely  more  than  a  decade  after  the  Civil  War,  there 
were  many  parades  in  New  York,  and  all  of  them  passed 
the  little  Broadway  cigar-store.  To  get  a  better  view, 
Charles  frequently  climbed  up  on  the  roof  and  there 
beheld  the  marching  hosts  with  all  their  tumult  and 
blare.  Here  it  was,  as  he  often  later  admitted,  that  he 
got  his  first  impressions  of  street-display  and  brass-band 
effects  that  he  used  to  such  good  advantage. 

A  picturesque  friendship  of  those  early  days  was  with 
the  clock  -  painter  Washburn,  perhaps  the  foremost 
worker  of  that  kind  in  this  country.  He  painted  the 
faces  of  all  the  clocks  that  hung  in  front  of  the  jewel- 
ers' shops  in  the  big  city.  He  always  painted  the  time 
at  8.i7>^  o'clock,  and  it  became  the  precedent  which 
most  clock-painters  have  followed  ever  since. 

Charles  watched  Washburn  at  work.  One  reason  for 
his  interest  was  that  it  dealt  with  gilt.  The  old  painter 
took  such  a  fancy  to  the  lad  that  he  wanted  him  to 
become  his  apprentice  and  succeed  him  as  the  first  clock- 
face  painter  of  his  time.  But  this  work  seemed  too  slow 
for  the  future  magnate. 

Now  came  the  first  business  contact  of  a  Frohman 
with  the  theater,  and  here  one  encounters  an  example 
of  that  team-work  among  the  Frohman  brothers  by 
which  one  of  them  invariably  assisted  another  whenever 
opportunity  arose.  Frequently  they  created  this  oppor- 
tunity themselves.  To  Gustave  came  the  distinction  of 
being  the  first  in  the  business,  and  also  the  privilege  of 

15 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

bringing  into  it  both  of  his  brothers.  Having  hovered 
so  faithfully  and  persistently  about  the  edges  of  theatri- 
cals, Gustave  now  landed  inside. 

It  was  at  the  time  of  the  high-tide  of  minstrelsy  in  this 
country — 1870  to  1880.  Dozens  of  minstrel  companies, 
ranging  from  bands  of  real  negroes  recruited  in  the  South 
to  aggregations  of  white  men  who  blacked  their  faces, 
traveled  about  the  country.  The  minstrel  was  the  direct 
product  of  the  slave-time  singer  and  entertainer.  His 
fame  was  recognized  the  world  over.  The  best  audiences 
at  home,  and  royalty  abroad,  paid  tribute  to  his  talents. 
Out  of  the  minstrel  ranks  of  those  days  emerged  some 
of  the  best  known  of  our  modem  stars — men  like  Francis 
Wilson,  Nat  Goodwin,  Henry  E.  Dixey,  Montgomery  and 
Stone,  William  H.  Crane,  and  scores  of  others. 

One  of  the  most  famous  organizations  of  the  time  was 
Charles  Callender's  Original  Georgia  Minstrels,  hailing 
from  Macon,  Georgia,  composed  entirely  of  negroes  and 
headed  by  the  famous  Billy  Kersands.  Ahead  of  this 
show  was  a  mulatto  advance-agent,  Charles  Hicks.  He 
did  very  well  in  the  North,  but  when  he  got  down  South 
he  faced  the  inevitable  prejudice  against  doing  business 
with  a  negro.  Callender  needed  some  one  to  succeed 
him.  A  man  whom  Gustave  Frohman  had  once  be- 
friended, knowing  of  his  intense  desire  to  enter  the 
profession,  recommended  him  for  the  position,  and  he 
got  it. 

All  was  excitement  in  the  Frohman  family.  At  last 
the  fortunes  of  one  member  were  definitely  committed 
to  the  theater,  and  although  it  was  a  negro  minstrel 
show,  it  meant  a  definite  connection  with  public  en- 
tertainment. 

No  one,  not  even  Gustave  himself,  felt  the  enthusiasm 

16 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

so  keenly  as  did  little  Charles,  then  twelve  years  old.  He 
buzzed  about  the  fortunate  brother. 

'  *  Do  you  think  you  can  get  me  a  job  as  programmer  with 
your  show?"  he  asked. 

' ' No, ' '  answered  the  new  advance-agent.  * '  Don't  start 
in  the  business  until  you  can  be  an  agent  or  manager." 

On  August  2,  1872,  Gustave  Frohman  started  to  Buf- 
falo to  go  ahead  of  the  Callender  Minstrels.  Charles  fol- 
lowed his  brother's  career  with  eager  interest,  and  he 
longed  for  the  time  when  he  w^ould  have  some  connection 
with  the  business  that  held  such  thrall  for  him. 

Life  now  lagged  more  than  ever  for  Charles.  He 
chafed  at  the  service  in  the  store;  he  detested  school; 
his  one  great  desire  was  to  earn  money  and  share  in  the 
support  of  the  family.  His  father  urged  him  to  prepare 
for  the  law. 

"No,"  he  said,  '*I  won't  be  a  lawyer.  I  want  to  deal 
with  lots  of  people." 

Charles  frequently  referred  to  Tony  Pastor.  ''He's 
a  big  man,"  he  would  often  say.  "I  would  like  to  do 
what  he  is  doing." 

A  seething  but  unformed  aspiration  seemed  to  stir  his 
youthful  breast.  Once  he  heard  his  eldest  brother  recite 
some  stanzas  of  Alexander  Pope,  in  which  the  following 
line  occurs: 

The  whole,  the  boundless  continent  is  ours. 

This  line  impressed  the  lad  immensely.  It  became 
his  favorite  motto;  he  wrote  it  in  his  sister's  autograph- 
album;  he  spouted  it  on  every  occasion;  it  is  still  to  be 
found  in  his  first  scrap-book  framed  in  round,  boyish 
hand. 

Now  the  singular  thing  about  this  sentiment  is  that 

17 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

he  never  quoted  it  correctly.  It  was  a  life-long  failing. 
His  version — and  it  was  strangely  prophetic  of  his  coming 
career — was : 

The  whole — the  boundless  earth — is  mine. 

Meanwhile,  Daniel  Frohman  had  gone  from  The 
Tribune  to  work  in  the  office  of  The  New  York  Graphic, 
down  in  Park  Place  near  Church  Street.  The  Graphic 
was  the  aristocrat  of  newspapers — the  first  illustrated 
daily  ever  published  anywhere.  With  the  usual  family 
team-work,  Daniel  got  Charles  a  position  with  him  in 
1874.  He  was  put  in  the  circulation  department  at  a 
salary  of  ten  dollars  a  week,  his  first  regular  wage.  It 
was  a  position  with  which  personality  had  much  to  do, 
for  one  of  the  boy's  chief  tasks  was  to  select  a  high  type 
of  newsboy  equipped  to  sell  a  five-cent  daily.  His 
genial  manner  won  the  boys  to  him  and  they  became  his 
loyal  co-workers. 

With  amazing  facility  he  mastered  his  task.  Among 
other  things,  he  had  to  count  newspapers.  It  was  before 
the  day  of  the  machine  enumerator,  and  the  work  had 
to  be  done  by  hand.  Charles  developed  such  extraor- 
dinary swiftness  that  patrons  in  the  office  often  stopped 
to  watch  him.  In  throwing  papers  over  the  counter  it 
was  necessary  to  be  accurate  and  positive,  and  here  came 
the  first  manifestation  of  his  dogged  determination.  He 
never  lost  his  cunning  in  counting  papers,  and  sometimes, 
when  he  was  rich  and  famous,  he  would  take  a  bundle 
of  newspapers,  to  help  a  newsboy  in  the  street,  and  run 
through  them  with  all  his  old  skill  and  speed. 

Though  his  fingers  were  in  the  newspapers,  his  heart 
yearned  for  the  theater.     This  ambition  was  heightened 

18 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

by  the  fact  that  his  brother  Daniel,  having  heeded  the 
lure  of  Gustave,  joined  the  Callender  Minstrels  as 
advance-agent,  while  Gustave  remained  back  with  the 
show.  Slowly  but  surely  the  theater  was  annexing  the 
Frohman  boys.  In  the  summer  of  1874  Charles  was 
drawn  into  its  charmed  circle,  and  in  a  picturesque 
fashion. 

It  was  the  custom  for  minstrel  companies  and  other 
theatrical  combinations  to  rent  theaters  outright  during 
the  dull  summer  months.  The  playhouses  were  glad  to 
get  the  rental,  and  the  organizations  could  remain  intact 
during  what  would  otherwise  be  a  period  of  disorganiza- 
tion and  loss.  Gustave,  therefore,  took  Hooley's 
Theater  in  Brooklyn  for  summer  minstrel  headquarters, 
and  on  a  memorable  morning  in  July  Charles  was 
electrified  to  receive  the  following  letter  from  him: 

You  can  begin  your  theatrical  career  in  the 
box-office  of  Hooley's  Theater  in  Brooklyn.  Take 
a  ferry  and  look  at  the  theater.  Hooley  is  going 
to  rent  it  to  us  for  the  summer.  Your  work  will 
begin  as  ticket-seller.  You  will  have  to  sell  25, 
^0,  and  7S  ^^'^l  tickets,  and  they  will  all  be  hard 
tickets,  that  is,  no  reserved  seats.  Get  some 
pasteboard  slips  or  a  pack  of  cards  and  practise 
handling  them.  Your  success  will  lie  in  the 
swiftness  with  which  you  can  hand  them  out. 
With  these  rehearsals  you  will  be  able  to  do  your 
work  well  and  look  like  a  professional. 

Charles  immediately  bought  a  pack  of  the  thickest 
playing-cards  he  could  find  and  began  to  practise  with 
them.  Soon  he  became  an  expert  shuffler.  Often  he 
used  his  father's  cigar  counter  for  a  make-believe  box- 

19 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

office  sill,  and  across  it  he  handed  out  the  pasteboards  to 
imaginary  patrons.  A  dozen  times  he  went  over  to 
Brooklyn  and  gazed  with  eager  expectancy  at  the  old 
theater,  destined,  by  reason  of  his  association  with  it, 
to  be  a  historic  landmark  in  the  annals  of  American 
amusement. 

He  wTote  Gustave  almost  immediately : 

I  will  he  ready  when  the  time  comes. 

That  great  moment  arrived  the  first  Monday  in 
August,  1874.  Charles  could  scarcely  contain  his  im- 
patience. So  well  had  the  publicity  work  for  the  per- 
formance been  done  by  the  new  advance-agent  that 
when  the  boy  (he  was  just  fourteen)  raised  the  window 
of  the  box-office  at  seven  o'clock  there  was  a  long  line 
waiting  to  buy  tickets.  The  final  word  of  injunction 
from  Gustave  was: 

"Remember,  Charley,  you  must  be  careful,  because 
you  will  be  personally  responsible  for  any  shortage  in 
cash  when  you  balance  up." 

The  house  was  sold  out.  When  Gustave  asked  him, 
after  the  count-up,  if  he  was  short,  the  eager-faced  lad 
replied : 

"I  am  not  short — I  am  fifty  cents  over!" 

"Then  you  can  keep  that  as  a  reward  for  your  good 
work,"  said  Gustave. 

Callender  was  on  hand  the  opening  night.  He 
watched  the  boy  in  the  box-office  with  an  amused  and 
lively  interest.  When  Charles  had  finished  selling 
tickets,  Callender  stepped  up  to  him  with  a  smile  on  his 
face  and  said: 

"Young  fellow,  I  like  your  looks  and  your  ways. 
You  and  I  will  be  doing  business  some  day." 

20 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

During  this  engagement,  and  with  the  customary 
spirit  of  family  co-operation,  Gustave  said  to  Charles: 

'*You  can  give  your  sister  Rachel  all  the  pennies  that 
come  in  at  the  Wednesday  matinee."  At  this  engage- 
ment very  little  was  expected  in  the  way  of  receipts  at  a 
midweek  matinee. 

But  Gustave  did  not  reckon  with  Charles.  With  an 
almost  uncanny  sense  of  exploitation  which  afterward 
enabled  him  to  attract  millions  of  theater-goers,  the  boy 
kept  the  brass-band  playing  outside  the  theater  half  an 
hour  longer  than  usual.  This  drew  many  children  just 
home  from  school,  and  they  paid  their  way  in  pennies. 
The  receipts,  therefore,  were  unexpectedly  large.  When 
sister  Rachel  came  over  that  day  her  beaming  brother 
filled  her  bag  with  coppers. 

The  summer  of  1874  was  a  strenuous  one  for  Charles 
Frohman.  By  day  he  worked  in  The  Graphic  office, 
only  getting  off  for  the  matinees ;  at  night  he  was  in  the 
box-office  at  Hooley's  in  Brooklyn,  his  smiling  face  beam- 
ing like  a  moon  through  the  window.  He  was  in  his 
element  at  last  and  supremely  happy.  When  the  season 
ended  the  Callender  Minstrels  resumed  their  tour  on  the 
road  and  Charles  went  back  to  the  routine  of  The 
Graphic  undisturbed  by  the  thrill  of  the  theater. 

He  was  developing  rapidly.  Daily  he  became  more 
efficient.  The  following  year  he  was  put  in  charge  of 
a  branch  office  established  by  The  Graphic  in  Phila- 
delphia. Now  came  his  second  business  contact  with 
the  theater.  Callender' s  Minstrels  played  an  engage- 
ment at  Wood's  Museum,  and  Daniel  came  on  ahead  to 
bill  the  show.  Charles  immediately  offered  his  services. 
His  advice  about  the  location  of  favorite  ''stands"  was 
of  great  service  in  getting  posters  displayed  to  the  best 

21 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

advantage.  It  was  the  initial  expression  of  what  later 
amounted  to  a  positive  genius  in  the  art  of  well-directed 
bill-board  posting. 

While  prowling  around  Philadelphia  in  search  of 
amusement  novelty — a  desire  that  remained  with  him 
all  his  life — Charles  encountered  a  unique  form  of  public 
entertainment  which  had  considerable  vogue.  It  was 
Pepper's  ** Ghost  Show,"  and  was  being  shown  in  a  small 
hall  in  Chestnut  Street. 

The  ** Ghost  Show"  was  an  illusion.  The  actors 
seemed  to  be  on  the  stage.  In  reality,  they  were  under 
the  stage,  and  their  reflection  was  sent  up  by  refracting 
mirrors.  This  enabled  them  (in  the  sight  of  the  audience) 
to  appear  and  disappear  in  the  most  extraordinary 
fashion.  People  apparently  walked  through  one  another, 
had  their  heads  cut  off,  were  shown  with  daggers  plunged 
in  their  breasts.  The  whole  effect  was  weird  and 
thrilling. 

This  show  impressed  Charles  greatly,  as  the  unusual 
invariably  did.  It  gave  him  an  idea.  When  Charles 
Callender  joined  his  minstrel  show  at  Philadelphia, 
young  Frohman  went  to  him  with  this  proposition : 

"I  believe,"  he  said  with  great  earnestness,  "that  there 
is  money  in  the  'Ghost  Show.'  The  trouble  with  it  now 
is  that  it  is  not  being  properly  advertised.  If  you  will 
let  me  have  a  hundred  dollars,  I  will  take  charge  of  it 
and  I  think  we  can  make  some  money  out  of  it.  It 
won't  interfere  with  my  work  with  The  Graphic.'' 

Charles,  who  seldom  left  anything  to  chance,  had 
already  made  an  arrangement  with  the  manager  of  the 
show  to  become  his  advertising  agent. 

Callender,  who  liked  the  boy  immensely,  readily 
consented  ^and  gave  him  the  required  money,  thus  em- 

22 


A   CHILD   AMID    THE    THEATER 

barking  Charles  on  his  first  venture  with  any  sort  of 
capital. 

Unfortunately,  the  show  failed.  Charles  maintained 
that  the  Philadelphians  lacked  imagination,  but  with 
his  usual  optimism  he  was  certain  that  it  would  succeed 
on  the  road.  When  he  approached  Callender  again  and 
offered  to  take  it  out  on  the  road  the  minstrel  magnate 
slapped  him  on  the  shoulder  and  said: 

*'A11  right,  my  boy.  If  you  say  so,  I  believe  you. 
You  can  take  the  show  out  and  I'll  back  you." 

Charles  counseled  with  Gustave,  who  continued  as  his 
theatrical  monitor.     Eagerly  he  said: 

''I've  got  a  great  chance.  Callender  is  going  to  back 
me  on  the  road  with  the  'Ghost  Show.'" 

"No,"  said  Gustave,  firmly,  "your  time  has  not  come. 
Wait,  as  I  told  you  before,  until  you  can  go  out  ahead 
of  a  show  as  agent." 

Bitter  as  was  the  ordeal,  Charles  took  his  brother's  ad- 
vice, and  the  "Ghost  Show"  was  abandoned  to  its  fate. 


II 


EARLY    HARDSHIPS    ON    THE    ROAD 

r'HE  Christmas  of  1876  was  not  a  particularly 
merry  one  for  Charles  Frohman.  The  ardent  boy, 
whose  brief  experience  in  Hooley's  box-office  had 
fastened  the  germ  of  the  theater  in  his  system,  chafed  at 
the  restraint  that  kept  him  at  a  routine  task.  But  his 
deliverance  was  at  hand. 

Shortly  before  the  close  of  the  old  year  Gustave  quit 
the  Callender  Minstrels.  With  a  capital  of  fifty-seven 
dollars  he  remained  in  Chicago,  waiting  for  something 
to  turn  up.  One  day  as  he  sat  in  the  lobby  of  the  old 
Sherman  House  he  was  accosted  by  J.  H.  ¥/allick,  an 
actor-manager  who  had  just  landed  in  town  with  a 
theatrical  combination  headed  by  John  Dillon,  a  well- 
known  Western  comedian  of  the  time.  They  were 
stranded  and  looking  for  a  backer. 

"Will  you  take  charge  of  the  company?"  asked 
Wallick. 

"I've  only  got  fifty-seven  dollars,"  said  Gustave,  "but 
I'll  take  a  chance." 

Between  them  they  raised  a  little  capital  and  started 
on  a  tour  of  the  Middle  West  that  was  destined  to  play 
a  significant  part  in  shaping  the  career  of  Charles.  In 
the  company  besides  John  Dillon  were  his  wife,  Louise 
Dillon  (afterward  the  ingenue  of  Daniel  Frohman's 
Lyceum  Company);   George  W.  Stoddart,   brother  of 

24 


HARDSHIPS   ON   THE    ROAD 

J.  H.  Stoddart  of  A.  M.  Palmer's  Company,  his  wife  and 
his  daughter,  Polly  Stoddart,  who  married  Neil  Burgess; 
John  F.  Germon;  Mrs.  E.  M.  Post,  and  Wesley  Sisson. 
Their  repertory  consisted  of  two  well-worn  but  always 
amusing  plays,  "Our  Boys"  and  "Married  Life." 

Gustave  was  to  remain  with  the  company  until  they 
reached  Clinton,  Iowa.  After  that  he  was  to  go  ahead 
while  Wallick  was  to  remain  with  the  company.  When 
Gustave  was  about  to  leave,  the  company  protested. 
He  had  won  their  confidence,  and  they  threatened  to 
strike.     What  to  do  with  Wallick  was  the  problem. 

"Why  not  make  him  stage-manager?"  suggested 
Dillon. 

"All  right,"  said  Gustave,  "but  who  is  to  go  ahead  of 
the  show?" 

The  company  was  gathered  on  the  stage  of  the  Davis 
Opera  House.  Gustave  scratched  his  head.  Then  he 
turned  quickly  on  the  group  of  stage  folk  and  said: 

"I've  got  some  one  for  you.  I'll  wire  my  brother 
Charles  to  come  on  and  be  advance-agent." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  from  a  little  Iowa  town 
there  flashed  back  to  New  York  on  a  memorable  morn- 
ing in  January,  1877,  the  following  telegram  from  Gus- 
tave to  Charles  Frohman : 

Your  time  has  come  at  last.  Am  wiring  money 
jor  ticket  to  St.  Paul,  where  you  begin  as  agent  for 
John  Dillon.  Will  meet  you  2  A.M.  at  Winona, 
where  you  change  cars  and  where  I  will  instruct. 

Charles  happened  to  be  at  home  when  this  telegram 
came.  It  was  the  first  he  had  ever  received.  With 
trembling  hands  he  tore  it  open,  his  rosy  face  broke  into 
a  seraphic  smile,  and  the  tears  came  into  his  eyes.     He 

3  25 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

rushed  to  his  mother,  threw  his  arms  around  her,  and 
gasped : 

"At  last  I'm  in  the  business!" 

He  lost  no  time  in  starting.  With  a  single  grip- 
sack, which  contained  his  modest  wardrobe,  the  eager 
boy  started  on  his  first  railroad  journey  of  any  length 
into  the  great  West.  It  was  the  initial  step  of  what, 
from  this  time  on,  was  to  be  a  continuous  march  of  ever- 
widening  importance. 

Begrimed  but  radiant,  the  boy  stepped  from  a  day- 
coach  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  at  Winona.  No 
scene  could  have  been  more  desolate.  Save  for  the 
station-master  and  a  solitary  brakeman  there  was  only 
one  other  person  on  hand,  and  that  individual  was  the 
faithful  Gustave,  who  advanced  swiftly  through  the 
gloom  and  greeted  his  brother  enthusiastically. 

Charles  was  all  excitement.  He  had  not  slept  a  wink. 
It  was  perhaps  the  longest  and  most  irksome  journey 
he  ever  took.  He  was  bubbHng  with  the  desire  to  get  to 
work. 

The  two  brothers  went  to  a  hotel  where  Gustave 
had  a  room,  and  there  they  sat  for  four  hours.  It 
is  a  picture  well  worth  keeping  in  mind:  the  pleased 
older  boy,  eager  to  get  his  brother  started  right;  the 
younger  lad  all  ears,  and  his  eyes  big  with  wonder 
and  anticipation.  There  was  no  thought  of  food  or 
rest.  Gustave  was  enthusiastic  about  the  company. 
He  said  to  his  brother: 

"Why,  Charley,  we've  got  real  New  York  actors,  and 
our  leading  lady,  Louise  Dillon,  has  a  genuine  sealskin 
coat.  That  coat  will  get  us  out  of  any  town.  You've 
got  no  'Ghost  Show'  amateurs  to  handle  now,  but  real 
actors  and  actresses." 

26 


HARDSHIPS   ON   THE    ROAD 

Then  came  an  announcement  that  startled  the  boy, 
for  Gustave  continued : 

"Your  salary  is  to  be  twenty-five  dollars  a  week  and 
hotel  bills,  but  you  must  not  spend  more  than  one  dollar 
and  a  half  a  day  for  meals  and  room." 

In  this  dingy  room  of  an  obscure  hotel  in  a  country 
town  Charles  Frohman  got  his  first  instructions  in  prac- 
tical theatrical  work.  Perhaps  the  most  important  of 
this  related  to  bill-posting.  In  those  days  it  was  a 
tradition  in  theatrical  advertising  that  whoever  did  the 
most  effective  bill-posting  in  a  town  got  the  audience. 
Most  of  the  publicity  was  done  with  posters.  An 
advance-agent  had  to  be  a  practical  bill-poster  himself. 
To  get  the  most  conspicuous  sites  for  bills  and  to  keep 
those  bills  up  until  the  attraction  played  became  the 
chief  task  of  the  advance -agent.  The  provincial  bill- 
posters were  fickle  and  easily  swayed.  The  agent  with 
the  most  persuasive  personality,  sometimes  with  the 
greatest  drinking  capacity,  won  the  day. 

All  this  advice,  and  much  more,  was  poured  by 
Gustave  into  the  willing  ears  of  the  youthful  Charles. 
No  injunction  laid  on  that  keen-eyed  boy  in  the  gray 
dawn  of  that  historic  morning  back  in  the  'seventies  was 
more  significant  than  these  words  from  his  elder  brother : 

"Your  success  in  handling  the  bill-poster  does  not  lie 
through  a  barroom  door.  Give  him  all  the  passes  he 
wants,  but  never  buy  him  a  drink." 

That  those  words  sank  deeply  into  Charles  Frohman 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  he  seldom  drank  liquor.  His 
chief  tipple  through  all  the  coming  crowded  years  was 
never  stronger  than  sarsaparilla,  soda-water,  or  lem- 
onade. 

The   task    ahead  of  Charles  would   have   staggered 

27 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

any  but  the  most  dauntless  enthusiasm.  Among  other 
things,  as  Gustave  discovered,  there  was  no  route  for 
the  company  after  St.  Paul,  which  was  to  be  played 
the  following  week. 

"You  must  discover  new  towns  and  bill  them,"  he 
said.  * '  Get  what  printing  you  want.  The  printers  have 
been  instructed  to  fill  orders  from  you." 

The  hours  sped  on.  Charles  asked  a  thousand  ques- 
tions, and  Gustave  filled  him  with  facts  as  dawn  broke 
and  day  came.  It  was  nearly  seven  o'clock,  time  for  his 
train  for  St.  Paul  to  leave.  Charles  would  not  hear  of 
having  breakfast.  He  was  too  full  of  desire  to  get  to 
work. 

Among  other  things,  Charles  carried  a  letter  from 
Gustave  to  Wallick,  who  was  temporarily  ahead  of  the 
show,  which  said: 

This  is  my  brother  Charles,  who  will  take  the 
advance  in  your  place. 

The  first  word  that  came  from  the  young  advance- 
agent  announced  action,  for  he  wired: 

All  right  with  Wallick.     Have  discovered  River 
Falls. 

River  Falls,  it  happened,  had  been  "discovered"  be- 
fore and  abandoned,  but  Charles  thought  he  was  making 
route  history. 

Charles  immediately  set  to  work  with  the  extraor- 
dinary energy  that  always  characterized  him.  The  chief 
bill-poster  in  St.  Paul  was  named  Haines.  Charles  cap- 
tured him  with  his  engaging  smile,  and  he  became  a  willing 
slave.     It  was  Haines  who  taught  him  how  to  post  bills. 

28 


HARDSHIPS    ON   THE    ROAD 

Later  on  when  Gustave  arrived  with  the  show,  he  spoke 
of  the  boy  with  intense  pride.     He  said : 

"I  have  taught  your  brother  Charley  how  to  post 
bills.  He  took  to  it  Hke  a  duck  to  water.  He  didn't 
mind  how  much  paste  he  spattered  over  himself.  His 
one  desire  was  to  know  how  to  do  the  job  thoroughly. 
I  am  going  to  make  him  the  greatest  theatrical  agent 
in  the  world." 

Curiously  enough,  Haines  lived  to  be  a  very  old  man, 
and  in  the  later  years  of  his  life  he  was  able  to  stick  up 
the  twenty-eight-sheet  stands  that  bore  in  large  type  the 
name  of  the  little  chubby  protege  he  had  introduced  to 
the  art  of  bill-posting  back  in  the  long  ago. 

At  St.  Paul  Charles  had  opposition — a  big  musical 
event  at  Ingersoll  Hall — and  this  immediately  tested 
his  resource.  He  got  his  printing  posted  in  the  best 
places,  went  around  to  the  newspaper  offices  and  got 
such  good  notices  that  John  Dillon  was  inspired  to  re- 
mark that  he  had  never  had  such  efficient  advance 
work.  It  is  interesting  to  remember  that  at  this  time 
Charles  Frohman  was  not  yet  eighteen  years  old. 

Now  came  the  first  evidence  of  that  initiative  which 
was  such  a  conspicuous  trait  in  the  young  man.  He 
had  come  back  to  see  the  performances  of  his  company, 
and  had  watched  them  with  swelling  pride.  Several 
times  he  said,  and  with  pardonable  importance: 

"What  we  need  is  a  new  play.  We  must  have  some- 
thing fresh  to  advertise." 

The  net  result  of  this  suggestion  was  that  his  brother 
obtained  the  manuscript  of  ''Lemons,"  a  comedy  that, 
under  the  title  of  "Wedlock  for  Seven,"  had  been  first 
produced  at  Augustin  Daly's  New  Fifth  Avenue  Theater 
in  New  York.    A  copy  of  the  play  was  sent  on  to 

29 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Charles  to  enable  him  to  prepare  the  presswork  for  it, 
and  it  was  the  first  play  manuscript  he  ever  read. 
"Lemons"  vindicated  Charles's  suggestion,  because  it 
added  to  the  strength  of  the  repertory  and  brought  con- 
siderable new  business. 

Charles  took  an  infinite  pride  in  his  work.  He  was 
eager  for  suggestions,  he  worked  early  and  late,  and 
when  the  season  closed  at  the  end  of  June  he  was  a  full- 
fledged  and  experienced  advance-agent.  With  his 
brother  he  reached  Chicago  July  4th.  In  the  lobby  of 
Hooley's  Theater  he  was  introduced  to  R.  M.  Hooley, 
who,  after  various  hardships,  again  controlled  the  theater 
which  bore  his  name,  now  Powers'  Theater.  Out  of  that 
chance  meeting  came  a  long  friendship  and  a  connection 
that  helped  in  later  years  to  give  Charles  Frohman  his 
first  spectacular  success,  for  it  was  Mr.  Hooley  who 
helped  to  back  ''Shenandoah." 

On  July  5  th,  six  months  after  he  had  left  the  East  for 
his  first  start,  Charles  appeared  at  his  mother's  home  in 
New  York,  none  the  worse  for  his  first  experience  on  the 
road. 

Charles  was  soon  eager  for  the  next  season.  Gustave 
had  signed  a  contract  with  John  Dillon  to  take  him  out 
again,  this  time  as  part  owner  of  the  company.  He  and 
George  Stoddart  agreed  to  put  up  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  each  to  launch  the  tour  of  the  Stoddart  Comedy 
Company  with  John  Dillon  as  star.  Charles  was  to  con- 
tinue as  advance-agent. 

It  was  a  long  summer  for  the  boy.  When  August 
arrived  and  the  time  came  to  start  west  there  was  a 
financial  council  of  war.  Gustave  counted  on  getting 
}jis  capital  from  members  of  the  family^  but  no  ^loney 


HARDSHIPS   ON   THE    ROAD 

was  forthcoming.  Daniel  had  received  no  salary  from 
Callender,  and  the  great  road  project  seemed  on  the 
verge  of  failure.  Charles  was  disconsolate.  But  the 
mother  of  the  boys,  ever  mindful  of  their  interest,  said, 
in  her  serene  way: 

* '  I  can  get  enough  money  to  send  you  to  Chicago  and 
I  will  put  up  some  lunches  for  you." 

Charles  was  eagerly  impatient  to  start.  He  nagged  at 
his  brother : 

"Gus,  when  do  we  start  for  Chicago?     Do  we  walk?" 

He  was  sent  down- town  to  find  out  the  cheapest  route, 
and  he  returned  in  great  excitement,  saying: 

*'The  cheapest  way  is  over  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio, 
second  class,  but  it  is  the  longest  ride.  We  can  ride 
in  the  day-coach,  and  even  if  we  have  no  place  to  wash 
we  will  get  to  Chicago,  and  that  is  the  main  thing." 

When  they  reached  Chicago  the  first  of  the  long  chain 
of  disasters  that  was  to  attend  them  on  this  enterprise 
developed. 

Stoddart  was  penniless.  The  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  that  he  expected  to  contribute  to  the  capital 
of  the  new  combination  was  swept  away  in  the  failure  of 
the  Fidelity  Bank.  He  had  looked  forward  to  Gustave 
for  help,  and  all  the  while  Gustave,  on  that  long,  toilsome 
journey  west,  was  hoping  that  his  partner  would  provide 
the  first  railroad  fares.  So  they  sat  down  and  pooled 
their  woes,  wondering  how  they  could  start  their  tour, 
with  Charles  as  an  interested  listener. 

Every  now  and  then  he  would  chirp  up  with  the 
question : 

"How  do  I  get  out  of  town?" 

Finally  Gustave,  always  resourceful,  said: 

^'You  don't  need  any  money,  Charley.     I've  got  rail- 

31 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

road  passes  for  you,  and  you  can  give  the  hotels  orders  on 
me  for  your  board  and  lodging." 

It  was  a  custom  in  those  days  for  advance-agents  to 
give  orders  for  their  obligations — hotel,  rent  of  hall,  bill- 
posting,  and  baggage — upon  the  company  that  followed. 
Hotels  in  particular  were  willing  to  accept  orders  on  the 
treasurer  of  a  theatrical  company  about  to  play  a  date, 
because,  in  the  event  of  complete  failure,  there  was 
always  baggage  to  seize  and  hold. 

So,  armed  with  passes  and  with  the  optimism  of  youth 
and  anticipation,  Charles  set  forth  on  what  became  in 
many  respects  the  most  memorable  road  experience  in 
his  life.  The  first  town  he  billed  was  Streator,  Illinois. 
Then  he  hurried  on  to  Ottawa  and  Peoria,  where  they 
were  to  play  during  fair  week,  which  was  the  big  week 
of  the  year.  Misfortune  descended  at  Streator,  for  de- 
spite the  lavish  display  of  posters  and  the  ample  ad- 
vance notice  that  Charles  lured  the  local  editors  into 
publishing,  the  total  receipts  on  the  first  night  were 
seventy-seven  dollars.  This,  and  more,  had  already 
been  pledged  before  the  curtain  went  up,  and  Gustave 
was  not  even  able  to  pay  John  Dillon  his  seven  dollars 
and  seventy  cents,  which  represented  his  ten  per  cent, 
of  the  gross  receipts. 

By  "traveling  on  their  baggage,"  which  was  one  of 
the  expedients  of  the  time  and  a  custom  which  has  not 
entirely  passed  out  of  use,  the  company  got  to  Ottawa, 
where  Charles  joined  them.  'Here,  in  a  comic  circum- 
stance, he  first  developed  the  amazing  influence  that  he 
was  able  to  exert  on  people. 

Although  an  admirable  actor  with  a  large  following  and 
the  most  delightful  and  companionable  of  men,  John 
Dillon  had  one  unfortunate  failing.     He  was  addicted  to 

32 


HARDSHIPS   ON   THE    ROAD 

drink,  and,  regardless  of  consequences,  he  would  periodi- 
cally succumb  to  this  weakness.  At  Ottawa,  the  town 
crowded  with  visitors  for  the  annual  fair,  Dillon  fell 
from  grace.  The  bill  for  the  evening  was  "Lemons," 
and  there  was  every  indication  that  the  house  would  be 
sold  out.     The  receipts  were  badly  needed,  too. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  came  the  terrifying  news  that 
Dillon  lay  stupefied  from  liquor  in  his  room.  Every- 
body save  Charles  was  in  despair.  Dillon  had  conceived 
a  great  fancy  for  Charles,  and  he  was  deputized  to  take 
the  actor  in  hand,  get  him  to  the  theater,  and  coerce 
him  through  the  play. 

Charles  responded  nobly.  He  aroused  the  star,  took 
him  to  the  theater  in  a  carriage,  and  stood  in  the  wings 
throughout  the  whole  performance,  coaching  and  inspir- 
ing his  intoxicated  star.  By  an  amusing  circumstance, 
Dillon  was  required  to  play  a  drunken  scene  in  "Lem- 
ons." He  performed  this  part  with  so  much  realism 
that  the  audience  gave  him  a  great  ovation.  The  real 
savior  of  that  performance  was  the  chubby  lad  who 
stood  in  the  wings  with  beating  heart,  fearful  every 
moment  that  Dillon  would  succumb. 

New  and  heavier  responsibilities  now  faced  Charles 
Frohman.  The  company  was  booked  to  play  a  week  in 
Memphis,  Tennessee,  the  longest  and  most  important 
stand  of  the  tour.  In  those  days  the  printers  who  sup- 
plied the  traveling  companies  with  advertising  matter 
were  powers  to  be  reckoned  with.  When  the  supply  of 
printing  was  cut  off  the  company  was  helpless. 

Charles  H.  McConnell,  of  the  National  Printing  Com- 
pany, who  supplied  the  Stoddart  Company  with  paper, 
was  none  too  confident  of  the  success  of  that  organiza- 

33 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

tion.  When  he  heard  of  the  Memphis  engagement  he 
insisted  that  Gustave,  who  was  older  and  more  experi- 
enced, be  sent  ahead  to  pave  the  way.  Charles  was  sent 
back  to  manage  the  company,  and  now  came  his  first 
attempt  at  handling  actors.  He  rose  to  the  emergency 
with  all  his  characteristic  ingenuity. 

He  began  at  Champaign,  Illinois.  The  first  test  of 
his  resource  came  at  a  one-night  stand — Waupaca,  Iowa — 
where  * '  Lemons ' '  was  billed  as  a  feature.  The  prospects 
for  a  big  house  were  good.  Board  and  railroad  fare 
seemed  assured,  when  just  before  supper-time  John  F. 
Germon,  one  of  the  company,  approached  Charles  in 
great  perturbation. 

*'We  can't  play  to-night.     Mrs.  Post  is  sick." 

Mrs.  Post  played  the  part  of  the  old  woman  in  the 
play,  and  it  was  a  very  important  role. 

Charles  Frohman  only  smiled,  as  he  always  did  in  an 
emergency.     Then  he  said  to  Germon: 

"You're  a  member  of  the  well-known  Germon  family, 
aren't  you?  Then  live  up  to  its  reputation  and  play  the 
part  yourself." 

"But  how  about  my  mustache?"  asked  Germon. 

"I  will  pay  for  having  it  shaved  off,"  replied  Frohman. 

The  net  result  was  that  Germon  sacrificed  his  mus- 
tache, played  the  part  acceptably  without  any  one  in 
the  audience  discovering  that  he  was  a  man  masquerad- 
ing as  an  old  woman.  Charles  put  Wallick,  who  was 
acting  as  stage-manager,  in  Germon's  part.  Thus  the 
house  was  saved  and  the  company  was  able  to  proceed. 

With  his  attractive  ways  and  eternal  thoughtfulness 
Charles  captivated  the  company.  He  supplied  the 
women  with  candy  and  bought  peanuts  for  the  men. 
On  that  trip  he  developed  his  fondness  for  peanuts  that 

34 


HARDSHIPS    ON   THE    ROAD 

never  forsook  him.  He  almost  invariably  carried  a  bag 
in  his  pocket.  When  he  could  not  get  peanuts  he  took 
to  candy. 

A  great  friendship  struck  up  between  Frohman  and 
Stoddart,  who,  in  a  way,  was  a  character.  He  played 
the  violin,  and  when  business  was  bad  and  the  company 
got  in  the  dumps  Stoddart  added  to  their  misfortunes 
by  playing  doleful  tunes  on  his  fiddle.  But  that  fiddle 
had  a  virtue  not  to  be  despised,  because  it  was  Stoddart's 
bank.  In  its  hollow  box  he  secreted  his  modest  savings, 
and  in  more  than  one  emergency  they  were  drawn  on 
for  company  bed  and  board.  When  the  organization 
reached  Memphis  Charles  had  so  completely  won  the 
affections  of  the  company  that  they  urged  him  to  stay 
on  with  them.  But  business  was  business,  and  he  had 
to  go  on  in  advance. 

Charles  now  went  ahead  to  ''bill"  Texas.  The  reason 
for  the  expedition  was  this : 

In  Memphis  business  was  so  bad  that  the  manager 
of  the  theater  there  advised  Gustave  to  send  the  com- 
pany through  Texas,  where,  he  assured  them,  there 
would  be  no  opposition,  and  they  would  have  the  state 
to  themselves.  This  advice  proved  to  be  only  too  true, 
for  the  company  not  only  had  the  state  to  itself,  but  the 
state  for  a  tinie  held  the  company  fast — in  the  unwilling 
bonds  of  financial  misfortune. 

The  plan  was  to  play  the  best  towns  in  Texas  and 
then  go  back  through  the  Middle  West,  where  John 
Dillon  had  a  strong  following,  and  where  it  was  hoped 
the  season  could  close  with  full  pockets.  Up  to  this 
time  the  company  had  received  salaries  with  some  de- 
gree of  regularity.  But  from  this  time  on  they  were 
0  have  a  constantly  diminishing  acquaintance  with 

35 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

money,  for  hard  luck  descended  upon  them  the  moment 
they  crossed  the  frontiers  of  the  Lone  Star  State. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Charles  Callender,  at  the 
solicitation  of  Gustave,  purchased  an  interest  in  the 
Stoddart  Comedy  Company  for  a  hundred-dollar  bill. 
This  bill  was  given  to  Charles  as  a  ''prop."  In  those 
days  the  financial  integrity  of  the  legitimate  theatrical 
combination  was  sometimes  questioned  by  hard-hearted 
hotel-keepers.  The  less  esthetic  "variety"  troupes,  min- 
strel shows,  and  circuses  enjoyed  a  much  higher  credit. 
An  advance-agent  like  Charles  sometimes  found  dif- 
ficulty in  persuading  the  hotel  people  to  accept  orders 
on  the  company's  treasurer. 

With  characteristic  enterprise  Charles  used  the  hun- 
dred-dollar bill  as  a  symbol  of  solvency.  He  flashed  it 
on  hotel-keepers  and  railway  agents  in  the  careless  way 
that  inspired  confidence,  and,  what  was  more  to  the 
point,  credit.  He  carried  this  hundred-dollar  bill  for 
nearly  a  month.  Often  when  asked  to  pay  his  board 
bill  he  would  produce  the  note  and  ask  for  change.  Be- 
fore the  startled  clerk  could  draw  his  breath  he  would 
add: 

''Perhaps  it  might  be  best  if  I  gave  you  an  order  on 
the  treasurer." 

This  always  served  to  get  him  out  of  town  without 
spending  cash  for  hotel  bills. 

Texas  was  still  a  rough  country,  and  Charles's  reckless 
display  of  the  hundred-dollar  bill  once  gave  him  a  narrow 
escape  from  possible  death.  He  had  made  the  usual 
careless  display  of  wealth  at  a  small  hotel  in  Calvert. 
The  bad  man  of  the  town  witnessed  the  performance  and 
immediately  began  to  shadow  the  young  advance-agent. 
When  Charles  retired  to  his  room  he  found,  to  his  dismay, 

36 


HARDSHIPS   ON  THE    ROAD 

that  there  was  no  lock  on  the  door.  He  had  a  distinct 
feeling  that  a  robbery  would  be  attempted,  so  he  quietly 
left  the  hotel  and  spent  the  night  riding  back  and  forth 
on  the  train  between  Calvert  and  Dallas.  This  cost  him 
nothing,  for  he  had  a  pass. 

At  Galveston  occurred  an  unexpected  meeting.  Daniel 
Frohman,  who  was  ahead  of  Callender's  Minstrels,  had 
arrived  in  town  by  boat  from  New  Orleans  (there  being 
no  railway  connection  then)  to  book  his  show  for  the 
next  week.  On  arriving  at  the  Tremont  Opera  House 
he  was  surprised  to  see  Charles  writing  press  notices  in 
the  box-office. 

''What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  asked.  ''I  thought 
you  were  in  Tennessee." 

Charles  walked  to  the  window  and  said,  with  great 
pride,  *'We  play  here  all  next  week." 

"Have  you  got  the  whole  week?"  asked  Daniel. 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply. 

"But  can't  you  give  me  Monday  or  Tuesday  night?" 
asked  Daniel. 

"Impossible,"  replied  Charles,  haughtily. 

"All  right,"  said  Daniel,  in  friendly  rivalry,  "then  I 
will  have  to  hire  Turner  Hall  and  knock  you  out  for  two 
nights  with  our  brass-band  parade." 

Charles  then  came  out  into  the  lobby  and  confessed 
that  his  company  was  up  against  it,  and  that  it  meant 
bread  and  butter  and  possibly  the  whole  future  of  the 
company  if  he  could  only  play  Galveston. 

"We  are  coming  here  on  our  trimks,"  he  said,  "and 
we've  got  to  get  some  money." 

Daniel  immediately  relented.  He  arranged  with  the 
railroad  to  delay  the  train  and  thus  make  a  connection 
which  would  carry  his  company  on  through  to  the  in- 

37 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

terior.  He  booked  Galveston  for  the  second  week  fol- 
lowing. This  left  the  week  in  question  free  to  Charles, 
who  breathed  easier. 

Charles  now  went  on  and  billed  Sherman,  Houston, 
and  Dallas.  At  Dallas  the  hard  luck  that  had  gripped 
the  company  the  moment  it  left  Memphis  descended 
more  vigorously  than  before.  Dillon  not  only  fell  from 
grace  again,  but  disappeared.  Gustave  Frohman  had 
vowed  that  he  would  discharge  him  if  he  went  on  another 
spree,  and  he  kept  his  word.  They  were  in  a  real  pre- 
dicament, with  star  gone,  business  bad,  and  practically 
stranded  a  thousand  miles  from  home. 

Charles,  who  frequently  came  back  to  join  the  com- 
pany, was  the  one  bright  spot  of  those  precarious  days, 
for  he  never  lost  his  optimism  or  his  smile. 

''What  we  need,"  he  said  at  a  council  of  war  in 
Dallas,  "is  a  new  play.  I  have  been  reading  in  the 
New  York  Clipper  about  one  called  'Pink  Dominoes.' 
I  think  it  is  just  the  thing  for  us  to  do.  In  fact,  I  have 
already  sent  for  a  copy  of  it." 

The  play  arrived  the  next  day,  and  when  George 
Stoddart  read  it  to  him  the  young  agent  bubbled  with 
laughter  and  said: 

"It's  bound  to  be  a  big  success.'* 

It  was  decided  to  put  on  "Pink  Dominoes"  at  Hous- 
ton. Charles  remained  behind  and  watched  the  re- 
hearsals, the  first  of  the  kind  he  had  ever  seen.  Con- 
trary to  all  expectations,  Houston  was  shocked  by  the 
play.  The  audience  literally  "walked  out"  and  the 
run  of  one  night  ended. 

Misfortunes  now  crowded  thick  and  fast.  Salaries 
had  ceased  entirely,  and  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty 
that  the  company  proceeded  on  its  way.     As  a  crowning 

38 


HARDSHIPS   ON   THE    ROAD 

hardship,  Callender  repented  of  his  bargain  and  with- 
drew the  much-used  and  treasured  hundred-dollar  bill. 

When  Charles  met  Gustave  in  Seguin  he  said:  ''We're 
up  against  a  hard  proposition.  The  people  want  John 
Dillon.     It's  hard  to  book  an  attraction  without  a  star." 

In  this  statement  Charles  Frohman  expressed  a  truth 
that  he  afterward  made  one  of  his  theatrical  axioms, 
for  he  became  the  leading  exponent  of  the  star  system, 
and  developed,  in  fact,  into  the  king  of  the  star-makers. 

Charles  rose  supreme  over  the  hardships  that  filled 
his  colleagues  with  gloom.  Many  a  night,  in  order  to 
save  hotel  bills,  he  slept  on  a  train  as  it  shunted  back  and 
forth  between  small  towns.  He  always  turned  up  in  the 
morning  smiHng  and  serene,  with  cheer  for  his  now  dis- 
couraged and  almost  disgruntled  colleagues. 

Louise  Dillon's  sealskin  sack  rendered  heroic  service 
during  these  precarious  days.  It  was  almost  literally 
worn  out  as  collateral.  As  Gustave  had  predicted,  it 
got  the  company  out  of  town  on  more  than  one  occasion. 
A  little  incident  will  indicate  some  of  the  ordeals  of  that 
stage  of  the  tour.  At  Hempstead  a  "norther"  struck 
the  town  and  the  temperature  dropped.  Wesley  Sisson 
caught  a  hard  cold  and  concluded  to  get  what  he  called 
' '  a  good  sweat. ' '  He  had  scarcely  made  his  preparations 
and  settled  himself  in  bed  when  he  heard  a  rap  at  the 
door  and  a  voice  said,  "Open  up." 

'Who's  that?"  asked  Sisson. 

"Charley,"  was  the  reply.  "Let  me  in.  There  isn't 
a  spare  bed  in  this  house  and  I  am  freezing  to  death." 

"All  right,"  said  Sisson,  "but  you  don't  w^ant  to  come 
in  here,  because  I  am  trying  to  sweat  to  death." 

"Great  Scott!"  yelled  Frohman,  "that's  what  I  want 
to  do." 

39 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Sisson  let  him  in  and  he  remained  all  night. 

Everywhere  Charles  Frohman  drew  people  to  him. 
The  first  time  he  booked  Houston  he  made  friends  with 
Colonel  McPherson,  who  owned  the  Perkins  Opera 
House  and  the  inevitable  saloon  alongside.  The  old 
manager — a  rather  rough  customer  who  had  killed  his 
man — was  a  great  casino-player,  and  Charles  beguiled 
several  hours  with  him  one  night  at  a  game  while  waiting 
for  a  train. 

In  one  of  the  company's  darkest  hours  he  said  to 
Stoddart : 

"I've  got  an  idea.     Let's  play  Houston." 

"But  we've  just  been  there,"  said  Stoddart. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Charles.    "I'll  fix  it." 

The  next  day  he  turned  up  at  Houston  and  went  to 
Colonel  McPherson. 

"What,  you  here  again?"  he  asked. 

"We've  come  back,"  replied  Charles  ith  ready  re- 
source, "to  play  a  special  benefit  f^^  your  School 
Teachers'  Association." 

The  old  man  chuckled.  "Well,  if  yo^i  can  get  'em  in 
the  house  you  are  all  right." 

Charles  was  already  planning  a  series  of  benefits  for 
volunteer  firemen  and  widows  and  orphans  in  future 
towns.  It  was  a  case  of  "anything  to  get  a  crowd." 
He  hesitated  a  moment,  then  faced  the  old  man  with  his 
winning  smile  and  said : 

"Colonel,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  have  fifty  dollars 
to  send  back  to  the  company." 

"All  right,  my  boy;  there's  the  safe.  Help  yourself. 
Hurry  up.     Let  us  have  a  game  of  casino." 

Charles  wired  the  much-needed  money  to  his  brother, 

40 


HARDSHIPS    ON   THE    ROAD 

then  came  back  and  dutifully  played  the  game.  But 
neither  trumped-up  benefitvS  for  the  most  worthy  of 
causes  nor  the  unfailing  good-humor  of  the  boyish 
advance-agent  could  stem  the  tide  of  adversity.  Things 
went  from  bad  to  worse.  Louise  Dillon,  all  hope  of 
salary  gone,  gave  her  little  remaining  capital  to  Gustave, 
saving  only  enough  for  her  railway  fare,  and  went  back 
to  her  home  in  Cincinnati.  Stoddart  now  played  more 
dolefully  than  ever  on  his  violin,  ransacked  its  recesses, 
and  turned  over  his  last  cent  for  the  common  good. 

"We've  got  to  get  back  North,"  said  Gustave. 

With  the  utmost  effort,  and  by  pawning  jewelry  and 
clothes,  the  company  gladly  saw  the  last  trace  of  Texas 
disappear  over  the  horizon. 

It  was  a  hard  journey  back.  At  Pine  Bluff,  Arkansas, 
Charles  had  to  wait  for  the  company  because  he  did  not 
have  enough  cash  to  go  on  ahead.  Here  the  whole 
company  was  stranded  until  several  of  the  members  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  enough  money  from  home  by  wire 
to  send  them  on. 

Memphis  proved  to  be  a  life-saver.  Here  the  com- 
pany took  a  steamboat  down  the  Arkansas.  It  is  nota- 
ble because  thus  early  Charles  showed  that  eagerness 
to  take  a  chance  which  eventually  caused  his  death,  for, 
on  this  trip,  as  on  the  Litsitania,  he  had  been  warned  not 
to  sail. 

The  river  was  low  and  the  pilot  was  reckless.  When- 
ever the  boat  groaned  over  a  bar  Charles  would  say, 
''That's  great,"  although  the  other  members  of  the 
company  shivered  with  apprehension. 

By  using  ever^^  device  and  resource  known  to  the 
traveling  company  of  those  days,  the  Stoddart  Comedy 
Company  finally  reached  Richmond,  Kentucky.  It  had 
4  41 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

left  a  trail  of  baggage  behind ;  there  was  not  a  watch  in 
the  whole  aggregation.  Charles  went  on  ahead  to  Cin- 
cinnati to  book  and  bill  the  adjacent  towns. 

At  Richmond  Gustave  had  an  inspiration.  Then,  as 
always,  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  was  the  great  life-saver 
of  the  harassed  and  needy  theatrical  organization.  The 
play  was  always  accessible  and  it  almost  invariably 
drew  an  audience. 

"Why  not  have  a  real  negro  pla}^  Uncle  Tom?"  said 
Gustave. 

So  he  wired  Charles  as  follows : 

Get  me  an  Eva  and  send  her  down  with  Sam 
Lucas.     Be  sure  to  tell  Sam  to  bring  his  diamonds. 

Sam  Lucas  was  a  famous  negro  minstrel  who  had 
been  with  the  Callender  company.  He  sported  a  collec- 
tion of  diamonds  that  made  him  the  envy  and  admira- 
tion of  his  colleagues.  Gustave  knew  that  these  jewels, 
like  Louise  Dillon's  sealskin  sack,  meant  a  meal  ticket 
for  the  company  and  transportation  in  an  emergency. 

Charles  engaged  Sallie  Cohen  (now  Mrs.  John  C. 
Rice),  and  sent  her  down  with  Lucas,  who,  by  the  way, 
provided  the  money  for  the  trip.  Charles  then  pro- 
ceeded to  cover  his  "Lemons"  posters  with  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin"  printing  which  he  hastily  acquired,  and 
awaited  results. 

"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  was  played  to  a  packed  house 
at  Richmond,  and  the  company  was  able  to  get  out  of 
Kentucky.  Gustave  now  had  visions  of  big  business  in 
Ohio,  and  especially  at  Wilmington,  which  was  Sam 
Lucas's  home  town.  But  the  result  was  the  usual 
experience  with  home  patronage  of  home  talent,  and 
only  a  handful  of  people  came  to  see  the  play.     Sallie 

42 


HARDSHIPS    ON   THE    ROAD 

Cohen,  despairing  of  getting  her  salary,  had  quit  the 
company,  and  on  this  night  Polly  Stoddart,  who  was  a 
tall,  well-developed  woman,  had  to  play  Little  Eva. 
When  she  sat  on  the  lap  of  Wesley  Sisson,  who  played 
her  father,  she  not  only  hid  him  from  sight,  but  almost 
crushed  him  to  earth. 

Wilmington  proved  to  be  the  last  despairing  gasp  of 
the  Stoddart  Comedy  Company,  for  the  trouble-studded 
tour  now  ended.  Some  of  Lucas's  diamonds  were 
pawned  to  get  the  company  back  to  Cincinnati. 

The  sad  news  was  telegraphed  to  Charles,  who  was 
billing  Newport,  Kentucky,  which  is  just  across  the 
Ohio  River  from  Cincinnati.  He  received  the  message 
while  standing  on  a  step-ladder  with  a  paste-brush  in  his 
hand.  Now  came  an  early  evidence  of  his  humor  and 
equanimity.  He  calmly  went  on  posting  the  bill  for  the 
show  that  he  knew  would  never  appear.  Afterward  in 
reciting  the  incident  he  made  this  explanation: 

*'I  didn't  want  to  tell  the  bill-poster  that  the  company 
was  closed,  because  he  had  just  made  a  fresh  bucket  of 
paste  and  I  didn't  want  him  to  waste  it.  Besides,  he 
had  become  enthusiastic  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  a  real 
negro  Uncle  Tom,  and  I  had  just  given  him  some  passes 
for  the  show.  I  didn't  want  all  his  disappointments  to 
come  at  one  time." 

After  all  the  hardships  of  the  previous  months,  and 
with  salaries  unpaid,  the  company  now  found  itself 
stranded  in  the  spring  of  1878  at  the  Walnut  Street 
Hotel  in  Cincinnati.  Gustave's  problem  was  to  get  his 
people  home.  Fortunately,  most  of  them  lived  in  the 
Middle  West.  By  pawning  some  of  his  clothes  and  mak- 
ing other  sacrifices  he  was  able  to  get  them  off.  Only 
Frank  Hartwell  and  Charles  were  left  behind. 

43 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Gustave  got  a  pass  to  Baltimore,  where  he  borrowed 
enough  money  from  Callender,  then  in  his  decHne,  to 
take  care  of  Hartwell.  Charles  was  left  behind  as 
security  for  the  whole  Frohman  bill  at  the  Walnut 
Street  Hotel.  Although  Charles  was  amiable  and  smil- 
ing, the  hotel  thought  that  his  cheerful  demeanor  was 
an  unsatisfactory  return  for  board  and  lodging,  so  he 
was  asked  to  vacate  his  room  after  a  few  days.  He  now 
spent  his  time  walking  about  the  streets  and  eating  one 
meal  a  day.  At  night  he  sat  in  the  summer-gardens 
*' across  the  Rhine,"  listening  to  the  music,  and  then 
seeking  out  a  place  where  he  could  get  a  bed  for  a 
quarter. 

By  giving  an  I  O  U  to  the  same  Pennsylvania  ticket- 
agent  who  had  staked  Gustave,  and  with  five  dollars 
telegraphed  by  the  indefatigable  brother  back  in  New 
York,  he  got  as  far  as  Philadelphia.  He  landed  there 
without  a  cent  in  his  pocket. 

"I  must  get  home,"  he  said. 

He  got  on  a  day -coach  of  a  New  York  train  without 
the  vestige  of  a  ticket  and  still  penniless.  In  those  days 
the  cars  were  heated  by  stoves,  and  near  each  stove  was  a 
large  coal-box. 

When  Charles  heard  the  conductor's  cry,  "Tickets, 
please!"  he  hid  himself  in  the  coal-box  and  remained 
there  until  the  awful  personage  passed  by.  Being 
small,  he  could  pull  the  lid  of  the  box  down  and  be 
completely  hidden  from  sight.  After  the  conductor 
passed,  he  scrambled  out  and  resumed  his  seat.  He  had 
to  repeat  this  performance  several  times  on  the  trip. 
Afterward  in  speaking  of  it  he  said: 

''I  wasn't  a  bit  frightened  for  myself.  I  knew  I 
would  suffer  no  harm.     My  chief  concern  was  for  a 

44 


HARDSHIPS    ON   THE    ROAD 

kind-hearted  old  man  who  sat  in  the  seat  next  to  the 
coal-box.     He  was  much  more  agitated  than  I  was." 

On  a  bright  May  afternoon  Charles  turned  up,  sooty 
but  smiling,  at  250  East  Seventy-eighth  Street,  where 
the  Frohman  family  then  lived.  He  had  walked  all  the 
way  up-town  from  the  ferry.  His  first  greeting  to  Gus- 
tave  was : 

"Well,  when  do  we  start  again?" 


Ill 


PICTURESQUE    DAYS    AS    MINSTREL    MANAGER 

/NSTEAD  of  discouraging  him,  Charles  Frohman's 
baptism  of   hardship  with  the  John  Dillon  com- 
panies only  filled  him  with  a  renewed  ardor  for  the 
theatrical  business.    The  hunger  for  the  road  was  strong 
in  him.    Again  it  was  Gustave  who  proved  to  be  the  good 
angel,  and  who  now  led  him  to  a  picturesque  experience. 

During  the  summer  of  1878  J.  H.  (Jack)  Haverly 
acquired  the  Callender  Original  Georgia  Minstrels,  and 
Gustave,  who  had  an  important  hand  in  the  negotiation, 
was  retained  as  manager.  He  started  for  the  Pacific 
coast  with  his  dusky  aggregation,  and  in  Chicago  fell  in 
with  his  new  employer. 

Haverly  was  then  at  the  high  tide  of  his  extraordinary 
career.  He  was  in  many  respects  the  amusement  dic- 
tator of  his  time.  Beginning  as  owner  of  a  small  variety 
theater  in  Toledo,  Ohio,  he  had  risen  to  be  the  manager 
of  half  a  dozen  important  theaters  in  New  York,  Chicago, 
and  Philadelphia.  Not  less  than  ten  traveling  com- 
panies bore  his  name. 

By  instinct  a  plunger,  his  daring  deals  became  the 
theatrical  talk  of  the  country.  He  was  a  dashing  and 
conspicuous  figure;  his  spacious  shirt-front  shone  with 
diamonds,  and  he  wore  a  large  flat-crowned  stiff  hat  in 
which  he  carried  all  his  correspondence  and  private 
papers. 

46 


MINSTREL    DAYS 

Haver ly  specialized  in  minstrels,  for  he  was  a  genius 
at  capitalizing  the  enthusiasm  of  the  theater-going 
public.  Just  at  this  time  he  was  launching  the  greatest 
of  all  his  traveling  enterprises.  To  meet  the  competition 
of  the  newly  formed  Barlow,  Wilson,  Primrose  and  West 
minstrels  he  decided  to  merge  all  his  w^hite  minstrel 
companies  into  the  Haverly  Mastodons.  It  was  to  in- 
clude forty  star  performers,  more  than  had  ever  before 
been  assembled  in  a  minstrel  organization.  So  proud 
was  Haverly  of  this  total  that  the  advertising  slogan  of 
the  company,  w^hich  was  echoed  from  coast  to  coast, 
and  which  became  a  popular  theatrical  phrase  every- 
where, was  ''Forty — Count  'Em — Forty." 

Gustave  found  Haverly  in  the  throes  of  Mastodon- 
making.  Always  solicitous  of  the  family  interest,  he 
asked  him  if  he  had  engaged  a  treasurer.  When  Haverly 
replied  that  he  had  not,  Gustave  immediately  spoke  up: 

''Why  don't  you  hire  my  brother  Charley?  He  has 
had  experience  on  the  road." 

"All  right,  Gus,"  he  replied.  "I've  got  two  Froh- 
mans  with  me  now.  If  Charley  is  as  good  as  they  are, 
he  is  all  right." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  for  the  first  time  the  three 
Frohman  brothers  were  associated  under  the  same 
employer. 

Gustave  wired  the  good  news  and  transportation  to 
the  eager  and  impatient  Charles,  who  had  irked  under 
the  inactivity  of  a  hot  summer  in  New  York.  Gustave 
added  ten  dollars  and  instructed  his  brother  to  buy  a 
new  suit,  for  the  Frohman  family  funds  were  in  a  more 
or  less  sad  way. 

Henry  Frohman 's  generosity  and  his  absolute  in- 
ability to  press  the  payment  of  debts  due  him  had 

47 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

brought  the  father  to  a  state  of  financial  embarrassment, 
and  the  burden  of  the  family  support  fell  upon  the  sons. 

In  a  few  days  Charles  showed  up  smiling  in  Chicago, 
but  he  had  suffered  disaster  on  the  way.  The  ten- 
dollar  ''hand-me-down"  suit  had  faded  overnight,  and 
when  Charles  appeared  it  was  a  sad  sight. 

"You  can't  meet  Jack  Haverly  in  that  suit,"  said 
Gustave. 

"All  right,"  said  Charley,  "I  will  go  to  a  tailor  and 
have  it  fixed  in  some  way." 

The  tailor,  apparently,  worked  a  miracle  with  the 
clothes,  for  Charles  became  presentable  and  was  intro- 
duced to  the  great  man,  who,  like  most  other  people, 
readily  succumbed  to  the  boy's  winning  m^anner. 

"You  and  I  will  work  the  public,  all  right,"  he  said  to 
Charles.  What  was  more  important,  Haverly  informed 
him  that  he  was  to  act  as  treasurer  of  the  Mastodons  at  a 
salary  of  ten  dollars  a  week,  with  an  allowance  of  one 
dollar  and  a  half  a  day  for  board  and  lodging. 

A  serious  complication  now  faced  the  boy.  It  was 
in  the  middle  of  July;  the  company  was  not  to  start 
until  August,  and  he  could  draw  no  salary  until  the 
engagement  began.  With  the  assistance  of  Gustave  he 
rented  a  two-dollar-a-week  room  and  existed  on  a  meal- 
ticket  good  for  twenty-two  fifteen-cent  meals  that  he 
had  bought  for  three  dollars. 

Charles  sat  at  rehearsals  with  Haverly.  He  had  a 
genius  for  stage  effects  and  made  many  practical  sug- 
gestions. The  big  brass-band,  an  all-important  adjunct 
of  the  minstrel  show,  fascinated  him.  When  the  season 
opened  with  a  flourish  the  receipts  amazed  him. 

For  the  first  time  he  came  in  contact  with  real  money. 
The  gross  income  of  the  Dillon  company  had  never  ex- 

48 


MINSTREL    DAYS 

ceeded  a  thousand  dollars  a  week ;  now  he  was  handling 
more  than  that  sum  every  night. 

After  a  brief  engagement  at  the  Adelphi  Theater  in 
Chicago,  which  Haverly  owned,  the  "Forty — Count 
'Em — Forty"  started  on  their  long  tour  which  rounded 
out  the  amusement  apprenticeship  of  Charles  Frohman. 

Charles  now  made  his  first  real  appearance  before  the 
public,  and  in  spectacular  fashion.  It  was  the  custom  of 
a  minstrel  company  to  parade  each  day.  With  their 
record-breaking  organization  the  Mastodons  gave  this 
feature  of  minstrelsy  perhaps  its  greatest  traditions. 
Wearing  shining  silk  hats,  frock-coats,  and  lavender 
trousers,  and  headed  by  ''the  world's  greatest  minstrel 
band,"  the  "Forty — Count  'Em — Forty"  swayed  the 
heart  and  moved  the  imagination  of  admiring  multitudes 
wherever  they  went. 

Charles,  who  to  the  end  of  his  days  despised  a  silk 
hat,  now  wore  one  for  the  first  time,  but  under  protest. 
However,  he  manfully  took  his  place  in  the  front  set  of 
fours  with  the  ranking  officers  of  the  organization,  and 
marched  many  a  weary  mile.  So  great  was  his  dislike  for 
a  silk  hat  even  then  that  he  invariably  carried  a  cap  in 
his  pocket  and  the  moment  the  parade  was  over  the 
abhorred  headpiece  was  removed. 

The  first  stop  of  the  Mastodons  was  at  Toledo,  Ohio. 
A  great  crowd  assembled  around  the  theater,  and  the 
treasurer,  a  weak  little  man,  seemed  afraid  to  raise  the 
window.     "They'll  run  over  me,"  he  whined. 

"All  right,"  said  Charles.  "I'll  take  the  window  and 
sell  the  tickets." 

Up  to  this  time  his  only  box-office  experience  had  been 
as  a  mere  lad  at  Hooley's  Theater  in  Brooklyn,  but  he 

49 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

handled  that  big  crowd  with  such  skill  and  speed  that 
even  *'Big  Bill"  Foote,  who  was  the  manager  of  the 
company,  patted  him  on  the  back  and  said  a  kind  word. 

Foote,  who  was  Charles's  superior  officer  on  this  trip, 
was  a  type  of  the  big,  loud,  blustering  theatrical  man  of 
the  time.  He  was  six  feet  tall,  and  he  towered  over  his 
youthful  assistant,  who  was  his  exact  opposite  in  manner 
and  speech.  Yet  between  these  two  men  of  strange 
contrast  there  developed  a  close  kinship.  The  little, 
plump,  rosy-cheeked  treasurer  could  handle  the  big, 
bluff,  noisy  manager  at  will.  Such  was  Charles  Froh- 
man's  experience  with  men  always. 

The  first  tour  was  replete  with  stirring  incident. 
When  the  company  reached  Bradford,  Pennsylvania, 
they  found  the  town  in  the  throes  of  oil  excitement. 
Oil  was  on  everybody's  tongue  and  ankle-deep  in  some 
of  the  streets.  A  great  multitude  collected  at  the 
theater.  After  the  first  part  of  the  show  the  gallery, 
which  was  full  of  people,  creaked  and  settled  a  few 
inches,  creating  a  near  panic.  While  this  was  being 
subdued  an  oil-warehouse  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town 
burst  into  flames.  Most  of  the  volunteer  firemen  were 
in  the  theater  watching  the  minstrels.  When  an  agi- 
tated individual  out  on  the  sidewalk  yelled  ''Fire!"  a 
real  panic  started  inside  the  theater  and  there  was  a 
mad  rush  for  the  door. 

Charles  had  just  finished  taking  the  tickets  and 
stood  with  the  ticket-box  in  his  hand,  trying  to  calm  the 
crowd,  but  he  was  as  a  straw  in  the  wind.  The  mad- 
dened people  ran  over  him.  When  the  excitement 
cleared  away  he  was  found  almost  buried  in  mud,  mire, 
and  oil  outside,  his  clothes  torn  to  shreds,  but  he  still 
grasped  the  precious  box  in  his  hand. 

so 


MINSTREL    DAYS 

Now  began  a  comradeship  that  was  unique  in  the 
history  of  theatricals.  The  Mastodons,  destined  for 
long  and  continuous  association,  became  a  sort  of 
traveling  club.  It  was  really  a  fine  group  of  men,  and 
the  favorite  of  the  organization  was  the  rosy  little 
treasurer  who  day  by  day  fastened  himself  more  firmly 
in  the  hearts  of  his  colleagues. 

Nor  was  this  due  to  the  fact  that  he  was  ''Haverly's 
pocket-book,"  as  the  men  affectionately  called  him,  and 
their  first  aid  in  all  financial  need.  He  was  the  friend, 
confidant,  and  repository  of  all  their  troubles.  With 
characteristic  humor  he  gave  each  member  of  the  com- 
pany a  day  on  which  he  could  relate  his  hardships. 
He  had  a  willing  ear  and  an  open  hand. 

When  he  could  not  give  them  the  relief  they  sought 
he  invariably  said  with  that  constant  smile,  "Well,  I 
sympathize  with  you,  anyhow." 

Frohman  was  custodian  of  the  company  funds.  One 
day  in  Denver  four  members  of  the  company  found  them- 
selves without  a  cent.  Charles  had  tided  them  over  so 
many  difficulties  that  they  hesitated  to  ask  him  again. 
As  they  talked  their  troubles  over  they  saw  him  coming 
down  the  street.  Instantly  all  four  went  down  on 
their  knees  and  held  up  their  hands  in  supplication. 
When  Charles  saw  them  he  said,  ''How  much  do  you 
want?"     And  they  got  it. 

He  was  always  playing  some  practical  joke.  With 
half  a  dozen  members  of  the  company  he  formed  a  little 
club  which  often  had  supper  after  the  play.  This  club 
was  the  fountain-head  of  a  thousand  jests  and  pranks. 
On  one  occasion  Charles  suggested  that  for  the  sake  of 
the  novelty  of  the  thing  every  member  of  the  club  have 
his  head  shaved.      The  group  went  to  a  barber-shop. 

SI 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Only  one  chair  was  vacant,  however,  and  Charles  Cush- 
man  got  that  chair.  While  his  dome  was  being  shorn 
of  every  vestige  of  hair  Charles  nudged  the  others  and 
they  crept  away.  When  Cushman  emerged,  bald  as  a 
babe,  he  found  himself  alone.     The  'joke  was  on  him. 

In  his  joke  Charles  was  usually  aided  and  abetted  by 
Johnnie  Rice,  one  of  the  many  famous  minstrels  of  that 
name.  Rice  could  never  resist  the  temptation  to  stroke 
long  whiskers.  Whenever  the  house  was  unusually  big 
Charles  took  Rice  out  of  the  company  for  the  first  part 
and  got  him  to  assist  him  with  the  ticket-taking.  Any 
spectator  with  a  long  facial  hirsute  growth  was  sure  to 
have  it  caressed  to  the  accompaniment  of  "Ticket, 
please." 

Sometimes  the  men  in  the  company,  knowing  of 
Rice's  eccentricity,  often  watched  the  gallery  for  such  a 
performance,  and  it  invariably  made  them  laugh.  Once 
while  the  Mastodons  were  playing  an  engagement  at  the 
Olympic  in  St.  Louis  they  were  surprised  to  find  Rice  sit- 
ting in  a  front  orchestra  seat,  wearing  a  long  pair  of 
Dundreary  whiskers.  He  looked  so  solemn  that  every 
one  on  the  stage  burst  into  laughter.  It  almost  broke 
up  the  performance.     Charles  had  provided  the  whiskers. 

It  was  on  this  minstrel  tour  that  Charles  Frohman 
gave  the  first  real  expression  to  his  talents  for  pub- 
licity. Everything  about  a  minstrel  company  was 
showy  and  flashy.  So  Charles  originated  a  unique  idea 
of  establishing  a  reputation  for  solvency.  He  bought  a 
small  iron  safe  about  three  feet  high.  On  it  were 
painted  in  large  gilt  letters,  "Treasurer,  Haverly's 
Mastodon  Minstrels." 

In  reality  there  was  very  little  need  for  this  safe,  be- 

52 


MINSTREL    DAYS 

cause  ''Jack"  Haverly's  constant  and  insistent  demands 
for  cash  kept  the  company  coffers  stripped  of  surplus. 

Charles  saw  in  this  safe  a  spectacular  means  of  ad- 
vertising. It  was  put  conspicuously  on  the  top  of  the 
first  load  of  baggage  that  went  to  the  hotel.  He  always 
engaged  at  least  four  men  to  unload  it  from  the  truck. 
It  was  then  placed  in  a  conspicuous  position  in  the  hotel 
lobby  and  invariably  drew  a  comment  like  this: 

"Gee  whiz!  That  Haverly  show  has  got  so  much 
money  that  it  is  carrying  a  safe  to  hold  it." 

This  was  precisely  the  response  that  Charles  desired. 
No  sooner  was  the  safe  unloaded  in  the  lobby  than 
Charles  approached  it  with  great  ceremony,  holding  a 
bunch  of  one-dollar  bills  in  his  hand.  This  immediately 
attracted  a  crowd.  With  an  admiring  gallery,  he  would 
stow  away  the  money.  Just  as  soon  as  the  crowd  dis- 
persed he  would  be  back  on  the  job  removing  this  "prop  " 
capital  to  where  it  was  needed. 

He  was  always  alert  to  publicity  possibilities.  Among 
other  things  he  organized  a  drum  corps  composed  of 
volunteers  who  were  only  too  glad  to  serve  him.  He 
inspired  this  corps  to  such  proficiency  that  its  marching 
and  counter-marching  became  a  feature  of  the  parades. 
By  diverting  the  drum  corps  to  one  part  of  the  town 
and  the  parade  to  another,  having  them  unite  later  on, 
he  was  able  to  attract  two  big  street  crowds  and  then 
bring  them  together  at  a  common  point. 

All  the  while  the  boy  was  growing  in  responsibility. 
Without  a  murmur  he  assumed  practically  all  the  duties 
of  manager.  He  arranged  the  parades,  visited  the  news- 
paper offices,  devised  new  numbers  for  the  company, 
handled  the  money,  and  always  remained  serene,  un- 
disturbed, smiling,  and  optimistic. 

53 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Now  came  evidence  of  his  initiative.  While  his  first 
desire  was  to  build  up  the  attractiveness  of  his  bill,  he 
combined  with  it  a  genuine  desire  to  develop  his  asso- 
ciates. Frequently  he  would  say  to  men  like  the  three 
Gorman  brothers — George,  James,  and  John — who  were 
among  his  prime  pals  in  the  company: 

"Why  don't  you  rehearse  some  new  steps?  I'll  go  on 
and  watch  you  at  rehearsals  and  we  can  put  it  in  the 
bill." 

Out  of  such  incidents  as  this  came  a  dozen  new 
features. 

During  this  tour  Charles  displayed  on  many  occasions 
what  amounted  to  a  reckless  disregard  of  danger.  He 
had  proved  on  the  Dillon  tour  that  he  was  always  willing 
to  take  a  chance. 

Once  while  climbing  a  steep  incline  on  the  way  to 
Grass  Valley  in  California  their  special  train  stopped. 
When  he  asked  what  the  trouble  was  he  was  told  that 
they  would  have  to  wait  on  a  switch  while  another  train 
came  down  the  single  track.  He  was  afraid  he  would 
miss  the  evening's  performance,  so  he  asked  the  engineer 
if  he  could  beat  the  down  train  to  the  double  track. 
On  being  told  that  there  was  a  chance,  he  said: 

**Take  it  and  go  as  fast  as  you  can."  He  made  his 
town  in  time. 

Again  in  Colorado  his  train  was  stopped  by  a  slight 
fire  on  a  bridge.  He  urged  the  conductor  to  go  across, 
and  was  so  insistent  that  the  man  yielded,  and  the  train 
got  over  just  before  the  flames  leaped  up  and  the  struct- 
ure began  to  crackle. 

What  would  have  been  an  ordinary  theatrical  season 
waned.     A  minstrel  company,  however,  seldom  closed 

54 


MINSTREL    DAYS 

for  the  summer,  so  the  tour  continued.  For  the  first 
time  Charles  Frohman  crossed  the  continent.  Despite 
its  high-sounding  name  and  the  gHtter  and  splash  that 
marked  its  spectacular  progress  from  place  to  place,  the 
long  trip  of  the  Mastodons  was  not  without  its  hardships, 
for  business  was  often  bad.  Nor  did  it  lack  interesting 
episodes. 

Once  while  making  an  over-Sunday  jump  from  St. 
Paul  to  Omaha  the  train  broke  down  somewhere  in  Iowa, 
and  at  seven  o'clock  the  company  was  four  hours  from 
its  destination.  The  house  had  been  sold  out.  Charles 
immediately  began  to  send  optimistic  and  encouraging 
telegrams. 

"Hold  the  crowd,"  he  wired.  "We  are  on  the  way. 
Tell  them  we  will  give  them  a  double  show." 

From  every  station  he  sent  on  some  cheering  message. 
When  the  train  was  half  an  hour  from  Omaha  he  sought 
out  Sam  Devere,  the  prize  ban  joist  of  the  company  and 
a  great  fun-maker. 

"Go  into  the  baggage-car  and  black  up,"  he  said  to 
Sam.  ' '  I  want  to  rush  you  on  to  the  theater  as  soon  as 
we  get  to  town." 

They  reached  Omaha  at  eleven-fifteen  o'clock.  Charles 
hustled  Devere  up  to  the  opera-house  in  a  hack.  The 
comedian  went  before  the  curtain  and  entertained  the 
audience  until  midnight.  When  the  company  arrived 
not  twenty  people  had  left.  The  final  curtain  dropped 
at  two- thirty  o'clock  before  a  delighted  but  weary  crowd. 
The  telegrams  from  the  treasurer  which  were  read  to 
the  audience  had  saved  the  day— and  the  receipts. 

In  the  early  stages  of  this  long  journey  of  the  Masto- 
dons came  an  episode  that  made  an  indelible  impress 
upon  the  memory  of  young  Charles.      In  view  of  the 

55 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

later  history  of  the  two  actors  in  it,  it  is  both  picturesque 
and  historic. 

It  was  in  Cleveland,  and  the  day  was  hot.  The 
Mastodons  had  just  finished  their  parade,  and  Charles, 
weary,  perspiring,  and  wearing  the  abhorred  silk  hat, 
entered  the  box-office  of  the  Opera  House  on  Cleveland 
Avenue.  Sitting  in  the  treasurer's  seat  at  the  window 
he  saw  a  sturdy  lad  fingering  a  pile  of  silver  dollars. 
He  slipped  them  in  and  out  with  an  amazing  dexterity. 
Hearing  a  noise,  he  looked  up  and  beheld  young  Frohman 
with  the  tile  tilted  back  on  his  head. 

The  boys'  eyes  met.     Into  each  came  a  wistful  look. 

'*I  wish  I  had  that  silk  hat  of  yours,"  said  the  boy 
at  the  window. 

'*!  wish  I  could  do  what  you  are  doing  with  that 
money,"  was  the  response  from  the  envied  one. 

Such  was  the  first  meeting  between  Charles  Frohman 
and  A.  L.  Erlanger. 

Here  is  another  episode  of  those  early  days  that  re- 
sulted in  a  lifelong  and  significant  friendship.  In  a 
Philadelphia  newspaper  office  Charles  met  a  rangy, 
keen-eyed  young  man  named  Alf  Hayman,  who  was 
advance-agent  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  J.  Florence.  When 
Hayman  and  Charles  had  concluded  their  business  they 
started  out  for  a  walk.  The  Colonnade  Hotel,  at  the 
comer  of  Fifteenth  and  Chestnut  streets,  was  then  the 
fashionable  hotel  of  the  city.  In  the  course  of  this 
walk  the  two  boys  (they  were  each  scarcely  twenty) 
stopped  in  front  of  the  hostelry,  and  Charles  said: 

''Some  day  I  hope  to  have  enough  money  to  stop  at 
the  Colonnade." 

He  never  forgot  this,  and  whenever  he  met  Hayman  in 
Philadelphia  he  would  always  insist  upon  walking  over 

56 


MINSTREL    DAYS 

to  the  hotel  and  recalling  the  conversation.  Hayman 
afterward  became  general  manager  of  all  the  Charles 
Frohman  forces  and  remained  until  the  end  perhaps  the 
closest  of  all  the  business  associates  of  the  manager. 

Thus  passed  the  years  1878  and  1879.  Charles  was 
growing  in  authority  and  experience  until  he  was  really 
doing  all  of  "Big  Bill"  Foote's  work  and  his  own.  Now 
came  a  great  and  thrilling  experience. 

Haverly  sent  the  Mastodons  on  their  first  trip  to 
England,  and  Charles  naturally  went  along.  It  was 
the  first  of  the  many  trips  he  was  to  make  to  the  country 
which  in  time  he  was  to  annex  to  his  own  amusement 
kingdom. 

In  July,  1880,  the  company  sailed  on  the  Canada,  and 
their  arrival  in  London  created  a  sensation.  The  men, 
headed  by  "Big  Bill"  Foote  and  Charles  Frohman — 
"The  Long  and  the  Short  of  It,"  as  they  were  called — 
marched  with  their  hat-boxes  to  the  old  Helvetia  Hotel 
in  Soho. 

Overnight  their  printing — the  first  colored  paper  ever 
used  on  an  English  bill-board — was  posted,  and  it  startled 
the  staid  Londoners.  It  made  them  realize  that  a  wide- 
awake aggregation  was  in  town.  Charles  knew  that  a 
real  opportunity  confronted  him,  and  he  rose  to  the 
occasion. 

The  engagement  opened  on  July  30th  at  Her  Majesty's 
Theater.  The  sacred  precincts  that  Patti,  Neilson, 
Gerster,  and  Campanini  had  adorned  now  resounded 
with  the  jokes  and  rang  with  the  old-time  plantation 
melodies  of  the  American  negro.  The  debut  was  an 
enormous  success  and  the  prosperity  of  the  engagement 
was  insured. 

5  57 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Before  long  came  a  request  from  the  royal  household 
to  make  ready  the  royal  box.  The  fun-loving  Prince  of 
Wales,  afterward  King  Edward  VIL,  wanted  to  see  an 
American  minstrel  show. 

But  it  was  the  wide-awake  Charles  who  had  started  the 
machinery  that  led  to  this  royal  dictate.  He  realized 
soon  after  his  arrival  how  important  a  royal  visit  would 
be.  He  got  in  touch  with  the  right  people,  and  the  net 
result  was  that  on  a  certain  night  in  December  the  red 
canopy  and  carpet  that  betoken  the  royal  visit  were 
spread  before  Her  Majesty's  Theater. 

By  virtue  of  his  rank  "Big  Bill"  Foote  should  have 
received  the  royal  party  on  behalf  of  the  company. 
But  Foote  fled  from  the  responsibility,  and  Charles,  wear- 
ing his  much-hated  evening  clothes  and  the  equally  de- 
spised silk  hat,  did  the  honors.  The  royal  party  included 
Edward,  his  wife,  Alexandra  (now  the  Queen  Mother), 
his  brother  Clarence  (now  dead),  and  a  troop  of  royal 
children  old  enough  to  stay  up  late  at  nights. 

With  his  usual  foresight  Frohman  had  prepared  him- 
self for  all  the  formalities  that  attended  a  royal  visit  to 
the  theater.  Among  other  things  he  found  out  that 
precedent  decreed  that  the  entire  performance  must  be 
directed  toward  the  royal  box.  With  much  effort  he 
carefully  impressed  this  fact  upon  the  company.  He 
even  had  a  rehearsal  the  morning  of  the  royal  night  and 
all  eyes  were  ordered  to  be  "dressed"  toward  the  big, 
canopied  box. 

But  these  well-laid  plans  miscarried,  for  this  is  what 
happened : 

The  curtain  had  risen  on  the  assembled  fun-makers; 
their  swinging  opening  chorus  had  given  the  show  a 
rousing  start,  and  the  interlocutor  had  said  those  well- 

58 


MINSTREL    DAYS 

known  introductory  minstrel  words,  "Gentlemen,  be 
seated."  The  royal  party  was  well  bestowed  in  its 
place  and  every  gleaming  eyeball  on  the  stage  was  cen- 
tered on  the  glittering  representatives  of  the  reigning 
house  of  Britain.  Just  at  that  moment  a  flutter  ran 
through  the  theater.  The  only  remaining  vacant  box, 
and  opposite  to  the  one  used  by  the  royal  family,  was 
suddenly  occupied  by  the  most  entrancing  and  radiant 
feminine  vision  that  these  American  minstrels  had  ever 
seen.  It  was  Lily  Langtry,  then  in  the  full  tide  of  her 
marvelous  beauty,  and  wearing  an  extremely  low-cut 
evening  gown. 

The  Mastodons  were  only  human.  They  had  never 
beheld  such  loveliness,  to  say  nothing  of  a  gown  cut  so 
low.  They  forgot  all  the  careful  coaching  of  Frohman 
and  fixed  their  eyes  on  the  beauty-show  in  the  box. 

Charles  stood  anxiously  in  the  back  of  the  house, 
fearing  that  the  royal  displeasure  would  be  aroused. 
But  his  fears  were  groundless.  The  hypnotized  min- 
strels on  the  stage  were  only  part  of  an  admiring  host 
that  had  for  its  most  distinguished  head  the  Prince  of 
Wales  himself. 

The  "Forty — Count  'Em — Forty"  now  became  the 
vogue  in  London.  Royalty  had  set  the  stamp  of  its 
approval,  and  aristocracy  flocked.  One  night  in  the 
momentary  absence  of  the  chief  usher,  Charles,  who  was 
always  on  the  job,  escorted  a  distinguished  group  of 
nobility  to  a  box.  After  bowing  them  in  a  member 
of  the  party  slipped  a  shilling  into  his  hand,  which 
Frohman,  of  course,  refused. 

"Take  it,  you  beggar,"  said  the  peer,  with  some  irrita- 
tion, throwing  the  coin  at  him. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  responded  Frohman,  picking  it  up 

59 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

and  slipping  it  into  his  pocket.  He  kept  it  as  a  lucky- 
piece  for  twenty  years,  often  telling  the  story  of  how  he 
got  it. 

On  Christmas  Day,  1880,  came  a  concrete  evidence  of 
the  affection  in  which  Charles  was  held  by  his  minstrel 
colleagues.  They  assembled  on  the  stage  of  Her  Maj- 
esty's Theater  and  presented  him  with  a  gold  watch  and 
chain.  The  charm  was  a  tiny  reproduction  of  the 
famous  safe  that  Charles  had  introduced  into  the  com- 
pany, and  which  was  his  inseparable  companion.  Charles 
never  carried  a  watch,  and  this  timepiece,  together  with 
many  other  similar  gifts,  was  put  away  among  his 
treasures. 

One  day,  accompanied  by  Robert  Filkins,  the  advance- 
agent,  Charles  had  occasion  to  see  Col.  M.  B.  Leavitt, 
who  was  a  notable  theatrical  figure  of  the  time,  with 
extensive  interests  in  this  country  and  abroad.  After 
Leavitt  had  regaled  the  younger  men  with  an  account 
of  his  varied  activities,  Charles  suddenly  exclaimed  to 
him: 

"Gee!  But  you've  got  London  by  the  neck,  haven't 
you?" 

Many  years  later  Leavitt  again  met  Charles  Frohman 
in  London.  The  encounter  this  time  took  place  on  the 
Strand,  in  front  of  the  Savoy,  where  Frohman  was  in- 
stalled in  his  usual  luxurious  suite.  He  now  controlled 
half  a  dozen  theaters  in  the  British  metropolis  and  he  was 
a  world  theatrical  figure.  Leavitt,  whose  memory  is  one 
of  the  wonders  of  the  amusement  business,  clapped  the 
magnate  on  the  shoulder  and  repeated  the  words  spoken 
to  him  so  long  ago : 

•  "Gee!    Frohman,  yoii\Q  got  London  by  the  neck, 
haven't  you?"  , 

60 


MINSTREL    DAYS 

After  a  tour  of  the  provinces  the  company  returned 
home  and  opened  in  Brooklyn. 

With  the  return  to  America  came  the  first  realization 
of  one  of  Charles  Frohman's  earlier  dreams.  "Big 
Bill"  Foote,  fascinated  by  the  lure  of  English  life, 
bought  a  small  hotel  near  London  and  settled  down. 
This  left  the  managership  of  the  company  vacant. 
Although  Charles  had  practically  done  all  the  work  for 
nearly  a  year,  he  was,  so  far  as  title  was  concerned, 
treasurer. 

Immediately  there  was  a  scramble  for  the  position  of 
manager.  Among  those  who  sought  it  were  Robert 
Filkins,  William  S.  Strickland,  an^"^  a  number  of  other 
mature  and  experienced  men. 

But  when  the  company  heard  that  an  outsider  sought 
the  position  to  which  Charles  was  entitled  there  was 
great  indignation.  A  meeting  of  protest,  instigated  by 
the  Gorman  brothers  and  Eddie  Quinn,  was  held  on  the 
stage  in  Brooklyn,  and  a  round-robin,  signed  by  every 
member  of  the  company,  was  despatched  to  Jack  Haverly, 
insisting  that  Charles  Frohman  be  made  the  manager. 

A  little  later  Charles  walked  back  on  the  stage  after 
the  night's  performance  and  quietly  remarked: 

"Boys,  I  am  your  new  manager." 

A  great  shout  of  delight  went  up.  The  rosy,  boyish 
youth  (for  he  had  scarcely  entered  his  twenties)  was 
lifted  to  the  shoulders  of  half  a  dozen  men  and  to  the 
words  of  a  favorite  minstrel  song,  "Hear  Those  Bells," 
a  triumphant  march  was  made  around  the  stage.  None 
of  the  many  honors  that  came  to  him  in  his  later 
years  touched  him  quite  so  deeply  as  that  affectionate 
demonstration. 

6i 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

It  was  now  1881,  and  once  more  the  "Forty — Count 
*Em — Forty"  set  forth  to  rediscover  America,  with 
Charles  Frohman  as  manager.  His  name  now  appeared 
at  the  head  of  the  bill,  and  to  celebrate  the  great  event 
Eddy  Brooke  wrote  a  "Frohman  March,"  which  had  a 
conspicuous  place  on  the  program. 

Strangely  prophetic  of  the  circumstances  which 
brought  about  his  untimely  death  was  an  incident  which 
occurred  while  the  company  was  going  by  boat  from 
New  York  to  New  London.  It  was  a  bitter  cold  night 
when  the  aggregation  boarded  the  old  John  B.  Star  in. 
The  decks  were  piled  with  waste,  cord,  and  jute  for  the 
New  England  mills. 

"What  a  fine  night  for  a  fire  on  board!"  remarked 
Frohman  as  he  led  his  "soldiers,"  as  he  always  called 
the  Mastodons,  aboard.  Everybody  retired  early.  At 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning  there  was  great  excitement. 
Men  rushed  frantically  about ;  there  were  calls  for  hose, 
and  the  Mastodons,  most  of  them  clad  in  their  night- 
clothes  and  trousers,  rushed,  frightened,  on  deck.  They 
found  a  fire  raging  aft. 

Immediately  panic  reigned.  The  coolest  man  aboard 
was  the  smallest.  Here,  there,  and  everywhere  went 
Charles,  urging  everybody  to  be  quiet. 

"There  is  no  danger,"  he  said.  "Let  us  all  go  in  the 
cabin  and  wait." 

Under  his  direction  the  passengers  assembled  in  the 
water-soaked  saloon  and  there  waited  until  the  flames 
were  subdued.  Here  was  evidence  of  the  equanimity 
with  which  he  faced  disaster  and  which  marked  him  on 
that  ill-starred  day  when  he  was  plunged  to  his  death  in 
the  Irish  Sea. 

On  through  the  summer  of  1881  the  Mastodons  went 

62 


MINSTREL    DAYS 

their  way.  Charles  was  now  able  to  watch  the  minstrel 
parade  from  the  sidewalk,  but  he  was  still  the  friend, 
philosopher,  and  guide  of  the  company  to  which  he 
was  now  bound  by  nearly  three  years  of  constant  asso- 
ciation. 

They  played  Washington  during  the  Garfield  inaugural 
week.  Charles  realized  that  here  was  a  great  oppor- 
tunity for  spectacular  publicity.  First  of  all  he  took 
his  now  famous  band  down  to  the  Willard  Hotel  and 
serenaded  the  new  executive.  A  vast  crowd  gathered; 
the  President-elect  appeared  at  the  window,  smiled  and 
bowed,  and  then  sent  for  the  little  manager,  to  whom  he 
expressed  his  personal  thanks.  Then  a  heaven-born 
opportunity  literally  fell  into  his  hands. 

To  the  same  hotel  came  the  Massachusetts  Phalanx, 
of  Lowell,  which  had  secured  a  conspicuous  place  in  the 
inaugural  parade.  Their  arrangement  committee  had 
seen  the  Haverly  parade,  and  the  members  were  so 
greatly  impressed  with  the  band  that  they  asked  if  its 
services  could  be  secured. 

''Certainly,"  said  Frohman.  ''You  can  have  not 
only  the  band,  but  the  whole  company  will  escort  you 
in  the  parade." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  the  Haverly  Mastodon  Min- 
strels headed  the  third  division  of  the  Garfield  in- 
augural parade.  Ever  mindful  and  proud  of  his  men, 
Frohman,  at  his  personal  expense,  bought  a  button- 
hole bouquet  for  every  member  for  the  occasion  and 
fastened  it  on  their  coats  himself.  On  the  sidewalk 
he  followed  with  admiring  eye  and  flushed  face  the  prog- 
ress of  his  company. 

By  a  curious  coincidence  the  Haverly  Mastodons 
played  Washington  dviring  the  week  of  the  Garfield 

63 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

funeral,  and  the  band  marched  in  the  funeral  parade  to 
the  station,  playing  ''Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee." 

A  happier  sequel  of  the  inaugural  episode  came  when 
the  minstrels  next  played  Lowell,  where  they  were  re- 
ceived by  the  Phalanx  in  full  uniform,  paraded  through 
the  town,  with  Charles  marching  proudly  at  the  head. 
The  Phalanx  was  host  at  a  banquet  given  at  the  armory 
after  the  performance. 

The  Mastodons  were  now  making  their  way  to  the 
Pacific  coast.  At  the  same  time  Gustave  Frohman  was 
in  San  Francisco  with  the  Number  One  ''Hazel  Kirke" 
Company,  direct  from  the  Madison  Square  Theater  in 
New  York,  which  was  playing  at  the  California  Theater. 

One  morning  in  May,  1881,  he  received  the  following 
telegram  from  Charles,  dated  Salt  Lake  City: 

Am  stranded  here  with  the  ''Big  Forty.''  So  is 
Frank  Sanger  with  ' '  A  Bunch  of  Keys.' '  Theater 
management  has  failed  to  send  railroad  fares. 
Wire  me  what  you  can.  Will  return  amount  out 
of  receipts  Bush  Street  Theater. 

The  manager  of  the  Bush  Street  Theater,  in  San 
Francisco,  had  agreed  to  provide  railroad  transportation 
for  the  company  from  Salt  Lake  City  to  San  Francisco 
and  had  not  kept  his  agreement.  The  receipts  in  the 
former  city  did  not  leave  a  sufficient  surplus  to  negotiate 
this  jump. 

Gustave  wired  the  needed  cash,  and  Charles  showed  up 
on  time  in  San  Francisco.  For  the  second  and  only 
other  time  in  his  theatrical  career  Charles  was  somewhat 
downcast.  Despite  his  effective  services  during  the 
preceding  years,  Haverly  had  only  raised  his  salary  to 
twenty-five    dollars    a   week.     The    boy    had    handled 

64 


MINSTREL    DAYS 

hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  and  had  helped  in  no 
small  way  to  give  to  the  organization  its  prestige  and 
its  esprit  de  corps.  He  was  now,  in  the  phraseology  of 
his  associates,  "the  whole  show."  His  word  was  law 
with  the  company,  and  the  men  adored  him. 

He  met  Gustave  at  the  Palace  Hotel  and  said  to 
him,  ''I  suppose  the  time  has  come  for  me  to  quit 
Haverly." 

''All  right,"  said  Gustave,  still  the  good  angel.  "I'll 
put  you  out  ahead  of  our  Number  Two  'Hazel  Kirke' 
Company  at  a  salary  of  seventy-five  dollars  a  week. 
You  can  start  out  right  away.     What  do  you  say?" 

Charles  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said:  "Well, 
Gus,  it's  pretty  tough  to  go  ahead  of  a  Number  Two 
company  even  at  seventy-five  dollars  a  week  when  you 
have  been  manager  of  Haverly 's  Mastodons.  The 
money  doesn't  mean  anything  to  me.  I  like  the  minstrel 
boys  and  they  like  me." 

He  still  hesitated  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
two  or  three  times,  as  was  his  habit.  Finally  he  came 
over  to  his  brother  and  said,  decisively : 

"I'll  take  it." 

During  this  memorable  visit  to  San  Francisco  oc- 
curred another  event  that  had  large  influence  on  the 
whole  future  life  of  the  young  man.  One  night  in  a 
famous  ratheskeller  on  Kearney  Street  he  saw  an 
artistic-looking  youth  with  curly  hair  and  dreamy 
eyes  sitting  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  actors.  This 
youth  was  David  Belasco,  who  had  passed  from  actor  to 
author-stage-manager  and  whose  melodrama,  "American 
Born,"  was  running  at  the  Baldwin  Theater.  Frohman 
had  seen  this  play  and  was  much  impressed  with  it. 
Thrillers  had  interested  him  from  the  start. 

6S 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Gustave,  who  was  with  Belasco,  said  to  him:  "There's 
my  brother  Charley.     You  ought  to  know  him." 

Simultaneously  Belasco  was  pointed  out  to  Charles. 
They  glanced  up  at  the  same  time,  nodded  smilingly 
across  the  space  between,  and  later  on  when  they  were 
introduced  Charles  expressed  his  great  admiration  for 
** American  Born."  Belasco  had  just  received  the  offer 
from  Daniel  Frohman  to  come  to  the  Madison  Square 
Theater  in  New  York  as  stage-manager. 

Out  of  this  contact  came  the  association  between 
Charles  Frohman  and  David  Belasco  that  added  much 
to  their  achievements. 

Charles  gave  Haverly  notice,  and  at  Indianapolis  he 
left  the  Mastodons.  He  slipped  away  without  farewells, 
and  when  his  absence  became  known  a  gloom  settled 
down  on  the  company.  Unconsciously  the  rosy-cheeked 
boy  had  become  its  inspiration.  For  weeks  the  per- 
formances lacked  their  customary  zip  and  enthusiasm. 

His  minstrel  days  over,  save  for  two  brief  intervals, 
Charles  was  now  about  to  begin  his  connection  with  the 
Madison  Square  Theater.  It  was  to  mark,  because  of 
the  men  with  whom  he  now  became  associated  and  the 
revolution  in  theatrical  methods  which  he  brought  about, 
the  first  really  significant  epoch  in  his  crowded  career. 


IV 


IN   THE    NEW    YORK   THEATRICAL   WHIRLPOOL 

IT  FVT'HEN  Charles  Frohman  went  to  the  Madison 
f/^y  Square  Theater  in  1881  the  three  Frohman 
brothers  were  Hterally  installed  for  the  first 
time  under  the  same  managerial  roof.  From  this  hour 
on  the  affairs  of  Charles  were  bound  up  in  large  theatri- 
cal conduct. 

Since  the  Madison  Square  Theater  thus  becomes  the 
background  of  his  real  activities,  the  shell  out  of  which 
he  emerged  as  a  full-fledged  manager,  the  institution, 
and  its  significance  in  dramatic  history,  are  well  worth 
recording  here. 

The  little  Madison  Square  Theater,  located  back  of  the 
old  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  on  Twenty-fourth  Street  near 
Broadway,  was  established  at  a  time  when  a  new  force 
was  hovering  over  the  New  York  stage.  This  play- 
house, destined  to  figure  so  prominently  in  the  fortunes 
of  all  the  Frohmans,  and  especially  Charles,  grew  out 
of  the  somewhat  radical  convictions  of  Steele  Mackaye, 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  and  erratic  characters  of  his 
time.  He  was  actor,  lecturer,  and  playwright,  and  he 
taught  the  art  of  acting  on  lines  laid  down  by  Delsarte. 
Dr.  George  Mallory,  editor  of  The  Churchman,  became 
interested  in  his  views  and  regarded  Mackaye  as  a  man 
with  a  distinct  mission.  He  induced  his  brother, 
Marshall  Mallory,  to  build  the  Madison  Square  Theater. 

67 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Steele  Mackaye  was  the  first  director,  and,  with  the 
active  co-operation  of  the  Mallorys,  launched  its  career. 
Dr.  Mallory  believed  that  the  drama  needed  reform; 
that  the  way  to  reform  it  was  to  play  reformed  drama. 
So  the  place  was  dedicated  to  healthy  plays.  "A  whole- 
some place  for  wholesome  amusement"  became  the 
slogan.  Contracts  for  plays  were  made  only  with 
American  authors.  Here  were  produced  the  earlier 
triumphs  of  Steele  Mackaye,  Bronson  Howard,  William 
Gillette,  H.  H.  Boyessen,  and  Mrs.  Frances  Hodgson 
Burnett.  In  this  house,  in  "May  Blossom,"  De  Wolf 
Hopper  first  appeared  in  a  stock  company,  afterward  go- 
ing into  musical  comedy.  Among  the  actors  seen  on  its 
boards  during  the  Frohman  regime  were  Agnes  Booth, 
Viola  Allen,  Effie  Ellsler,  Georgia  Cayvan,  Mrs.  Whiffen, 
Marie  Burroughs,  Annie  Russell,  George  Clarke,  Jef- 
freys Lewis,  C.  W.  Couldock,  Thomas  Whiffen,  Dominick 
Murray,  and  Eben  Plympton.  Rose  Coghlan  was  also  a 
member  of  the  company,  but  had  no  opportunity  of 
playing. 

The  house  had  certain  unique  and  attractive  qualities. 
It  had  been  charmingly  decorated  by  Louis  C.  Tiffany, 
and  one  of  its  principal  features  was  a  double  stage, 
which  enabled  the  scenery  for  one  act  to  be  set  while 
another  was  being  played  before  the  audience.  Thus 
long  waits  were  avoided. 

The  name  of  Frohman  was  associated  with  this 
theater  from  the  very  start,  because  its  first  manager 
was  Daniel  Frohman.  It  opened  in  February,  1880, 
with  Steele  Macka^T'e's  play  ''Hazel  Kirke,"  which  was 
an  instantaneous  success.  The  little  theater,  with  its 
novel  stage,  intimate  atmosphere,  admirable  company, 
and  a  policy  that  was  definite  and  original,  became  one  of 

68 


NEW    YORK    WHIRLPOOL 

the  most  popular  in  America.  ''Hazel  Kirke"  ran  four 
hundred  and  eighty-six  nights  in  New  York  City  without 
interruption,  which  was  a  record  run  up  to  that  time. 
In  the  original  cast  were  Effie  Ellsler,  Eben  Plympton, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Whiffen,  and  Charles  W.  Couldock. 

The  Madison  Square  Theater  was  also  an  im- 
portant factor  in  New  York  dramatic  life  and  began 
to  rival  the  prestige  of  the  Wallack,  Palmer,  and  Daly 
institutions.  Its  fame,  due  to  the  record-breaking 
"Hazel  Kirke"  success,  became  nation-wide. 

Now  began  an  activity  under  its  auspices  that  estab- 
lished a  whole  new  era  in  the  conduct  of  the  theater. 
It  was  the  dawn  of  a  "big  business"  development  that 
sent  the  Madison  Square  successes  throughout  the 
country,  and  Charles  Frohman  was  one  of  its  sponsors. 

Gustave  Frohman  had  been  engaged  as  director  of  the 
traveling  companies.  He  engaged  Charles  as  an  asso- 
ciate. The  work  of  the  Frohmans  was  carefully  mapped 
out.  It  was  Daniel's  business  to  select  the  casts,  or- 
ganize and  rehearse  the  companies  in  New  York;  Gus- 
tave took  general  charge  of  the  road  equipment;  while 
Charles  arranged  and  booked  the  road  tours. 

It  was  after  the  phenomenal  first  season's  run  of 
"Hazel  Kirke"  that  Charles  Frohman  hung  up  his  hat 
in  the  little  "back  office"  of  the  Madison  Square  Theater 
to  begin  the  work  that  was  to  project  his  name  and  his 
talents  prominently  for  the  first  time.  New  York 
sizzled  through  the  hottest  summer  it  had  ever  known; 
Garfield  lay  dying,  and  the  whole  country  was  in  a  state 
of  unrest.  Charles  sweltered  in  his  little  cubbyhole, 
but  he  was  enthusiastic  and  optimistic  about  his  new 
job. 

69 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Gustave  and  Charles  had  complete  charge  of  all  the 
traveling  companies  that  developed  out  of  the  series  of 
"runs"  at  the  theater.  They  inaugurated  a  whole  new 
and  brilliant  theatrical  activity  in  towns  and  cities 
removed  from  theatrical  centers,  regarding  which  the 
other  big  managers  in  New  York  were  ignorant. 

With  the  organization  of  these  Madison  Square  com- 
panies the  ''Number  Two  Company"  idea  was  born. 
It  was  a  distinct  innovation.  A  play  like  "Hazel 
Kirke,"  for  example,  was  played  by  as  many  as  five  com- 
panies at  one  time,  each  company  being  adjusted  finan- 
cially to  the  type  of  town  to  which  it  was  sent.  ''Hazel 
Kirke"  appeared  simultaneously  in  New  York  City  at 
three  different  theaters,  each  with  a  separate  and  dis- 
tinct type  of  audience. 

Under  the  direction  of  Gustave  and  Charles,  the  out- 
side business  of  the  Madison  Square  Theater  spread  so 
rapidly  that  in  a  short  time  fourteen  road  companies 
carried  the  name  of  the  establishment  to  all  parts  of 
the  United  States.  Despite  their  youth,  the  three 
Frohmans  had  had  a  very  extensive  experience  over 
the  whole  country. 

In  those  days  the  booking  of  road  attractions  was  not 
made  through  syndicates.  Applications  for  time  had 
to  be  made  individually  to  every  manager  direct,  even 
in  the  case  of  the  most  obscure  one-night  stand.  The 
big  New  York  managers  only  concerned  themselves  with 
the  larger  cities  in  which  their  companies  made  annual 
appearances.  The  smaller  towns  had  to  trust  to  chance 
to  get  attractions  outside  the  standard  "road  shows." 

Charles  realized  this  lack  of  booking  facihties,  and 
dedicated  his  talents  and  experience  to  remedying  it. 
His  seasons  on  the  road  with  John  Dillon  and  the 

70 


NEW    YORK    WHIRLPOOL 

Haverly  Minstrels  had  equipped  him  admirably.  He 
not  only  displayed  remarkable  judgment  in  routing 
companies,  but  he  was  now  able  to  express  his  genius 
for  pubHcity.  He  always  believed  in  the  value  of  big 
printing. 

''Give  them  pictures,"  he  said. 

He  urged  a  liberal  poHcy  in  this  respect,  and  the 
Madison  Square  Theater  backed  his  judgment  to  the 
extent  of  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  a 
year  for  picture  posters  and  elaborate  printing  of  all 
kinds.  The  gospel  of  Madison  Square  Theater  art  and 
its  enterprises  was  thus  spread  broadcast,  not  with 
ordinary  cheap-picture  advertising,  but  with  artistic 
Hthographs.  In  fact,  here  began  the  whole  process  of 
expensive  and  elaborate  bill-posting,  and  Charles  Froh- 
man  was  really  the  father  of  it. 

Under  his  direction  the  first  "flashlights"  ever  taken 
of  a  theatrical  company  for  advertising  purposes  were 
made  at  the  Madison  Square  Theater. 

Charles  was  now  director  of  nearly  a  score  of  agents 
who  traveled  about  with  the  various  companies.  He 
vitalized  them  with  his  enthusiasm.  In  order  to  expedite 
their  work,  Charles  and  his  brothers;  rented  and  furnished 
a  large  house  on  Twenty-fourth  Street  near  the  theater. 
It  was  in  reaHty  a  sort  of  club,  for  a  dining-room  was 
maintained,  and  there  were  a  number  of  bedrooms. 
When  the  agents  came  to  town  they  lodged  here.  Charles, 
Gustave,  and  Daniel  also  had  rooms  in  this  house.  A 
dressmaking  department  was  established  on  the  premises 
where  many  of  the  costumes  for  the  road  companies 
were  made. 

During  these  days  Charles  gave  frequent  evidence  of 

71 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

his  tact  and  persuasiveness.  Often  when  matters  of 
poHcy  had  to  be  fixed  and  discussed,  the  managers  of 
out-of-town  theaters  would  be  called  to  New  York. 
It  was  Charles's  business  to  take  them  in  hand  and 
straighten  out  their  troubles.  They  would  leave,  feeling 
that  they  had  got  the  best  "time"  for  their  theaters 
and  that  they  had  made  a  friend  in  the  optimistic  little 
man  who  was  then  giving  evidence  of  that  uncanny 
instinct  for  road  management  that  stood  him  in  such 
good  stead  later  on. 

With  his  usual  energy  Charles  was  interested  in  every 
phase  of  the  Madison  Square  Theater.  Frequently, 
accompanied  by  Wesley  Sisson,  who  succeeded  Daniel 
Frohman  during  the  latter 's  occasional  absences  from  the 
theater,  he  would  slip  into  the  balcony  and  watch  re- 
hearsals. He  sat  with  one  leg  curled  under  him,  following 
the  scenes  with  keenest  interest.  More  than  once  his 
sharp,  swift  criticism  helped  to  smooth  away  a  rough 
spot. 

He  impressed  his  personality  and  capacity  upon  all 
who  came  in  contact  with  him.  It  was  said  of  him  then, 
as  it  was  said  later  on,  that  he  could  sit  in  his  little 
office  and  make  out  a  forty  weeks'  tour  for  a  company 
without  recourse  to  a  map.  In  fact,  he  carried  the 
whole  theatrical  map  of  the  country  under  his  hat. 

In  the  strenuous  life  of  those  Madison  Square  days 
came  some  of  Charles  Frohman 's  closest  and  longest 
friendships. 

The  first  was  with  Marc  Klaw.  It  grew  out  of  play 
piracy,  the  inevitable  result  of  the  theater's  successes. 
Throughout  the  country  local  managers  began  to  steal 
the  Madison  Square  plays  and  put  them  on  with  *'fiy-by- 

72 


NEW    YORK    WHIRLPOOL 

night "  companies.  Since  they  were  unable  to  get  manu- 
scripts of  the  play,  the  pirates  sent  stenographers  to  the 
theater  to  copy  the  parts.  These  stenographers  had  to 
sit  in  the  dark  and  write  surreptitiously.  In  many 
instances,  in  order  to  keep  the  lines  of  their  notes  straight, 
they  stretched  strings  across  their  note-books. 

Gustave  Frohman  happened  to  be  in  Louisville  with 
the  Number  One  "Hazel  Kirke"  Company.  He  was 
looking  about  for  a  lawyer  who  could  investigate  and 
prosecute  the  piracy  of  the  Madison  Square  plays.  He 
made  inquiry  of  John  T.  Macauley,  manager  of  Macau- 
ley's  Theater,  who  said: 

''There's  a  young  lawyer  here  named  Marc  Klaw  who 
is  itching  to  get  into  the  theatrical  business.  Why 
don't  you  give  him  a  chance?" 

Frohman  immediately  engaged  Klaw  to  do  some  legal 
work  for  the  Madison  Square  Theater,  and  he  success- 
fully combated  the  play  pirates  in  the  South.  The 
copyright  laws  then  were  inadequate,  however,  and 
Klaw  was  ordered  to  New  York,  where,  after  a  short  pre- 
liminary training,  he  was  sent  out  as  manager  of  the 
Number  Two  "Hazel  Kirke"  Company  of  which  Charles 
Frohman  was  advance-agent.  In  this  way  the  meeting 
between  the  two  men,  each  destined  to  wield  far-flung 
theatrical  authority,  came  about. 

Charles  resented  going  out  with  a  "Number  Two" 
Company,  so  to  placate  his  pride  and  to  give  distinction 
to  the  enterprise,  Daniel  put  Georgia  Cayvan,  leading 
lady  of  the  Madison  Square  Theater,  at  the  head  of  the 
cast. 

There  was  good  business  method  in  putting  out  Miss 
Cayvan  on  this  tour,  because  she  was  a  New-Englander, 
born  at  Bath,  Maine,  and  Bath  was  included  in  this  tour. 
6  73 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

When  Charles  reached  Bath  ahead  of  the  show  he  rode 
on  the  front  seat  of  the  stage  to  the  hotel.  He  told  the 
driver  that  he  was  coming  with  a  big  New  York  show, 
and  said: 

"I've  got  a  big  sensation  for  Bath." 

''What's  that?"  said  the  driver. 

"We  have  Miss  Cay  van  as  the  leading  lady,"  answered 
Frohman. 

"Miss  Who?"  asked  the  driver. 

"Miss  Cayvan — Miss  Georgia  Cayvan,  leading  woman 
of  the  Madison  Square  Theater,"  answered  Frohman, 
with  a  great  flourish. 

"Oh,"  replied  the  driver,  "you  mean  our  little  Georgie. 
We  heard  tell  that  she  was  acting  on  the  stage,  and 
now  I  guess  some  folks  will  be  right  smart  glad  to  see 
her." 

Charles  was  so  much  interested  in  Miss  Cayvan 's 
appearance  in  her  home  town  that  he  came  back  and 
joined  the  company  on  its  arrival  and  was  present 
at  the  station  when  Marc  Klaw  brought  the  com- 
pany in. 

Quite  a  delegation  of  home  people  were  on  hand  to 
meet  Miss  Cayvan,  and  she  immediately  assumed  the 
haughty  airs  of  a  prima  donna. 

Charles  was  much  amused,  and  decided  to  "take  her 
down"  in  an  amiable  way.  So  he  stepped  up  to  her 
with  great  solemnity,  removed  his  hat,  and  said,  after  the 
manner  of  his  old  minstrel  days: 

"Miss  Cayvan,  we  parade  at  eleven." 

Miss  Cayvan  saw  the  humor  of  the  situation,  took  the 
hint,  and  got  down  off  her  high  horse.  In  the  company 
with  Miss  Cayvan  at  that  time  were  Maude  Stuart, 
Charles  Wheatleigh,  Frank  Burbeck,  W.  H.  Crompton, 

74 


NEW    YORK    WHIRLPOOL 

and  Mrs.  E.  L.  Davenport,  the  mother  of  Fanny  Daven- 
port. 

While  Charles  was  impressing  his  personality  and 
talents  at  the  Madison  Square  Theater  and  really  find- 
ing himself  for  the  first  time,  Gustave  Frohman  met 
Jack  Haverly  on  the  street  one  day.  The  old  magnate 
said,  with  emphasis: 

"Gus,  I've  got  to  have  Charles  back." 

"You  can't  have  him,"  said  Gustave. 

"But  I  must,"  said  Haverly. 

"Well,  if  you  pay  him  one  hundred  and  forty-six 
dollars  a  week  (one  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars 
salary  and  twenty-one  dollars  for  hotel  bills)  you  can 
have  him  for  a  limited  time." 

"All  right,"  said  Haverly. 

Charles  went  back  to  the  Mastodons,  where  he  re- 
ceived a  royal  welcome.  But  his  heart  had  become 
attuned  to  the  real  theater — to  the  hum  of  its  shifting 
life,  to  the  swift  tumult  of  its  tears  and  laughter.  The 
excitement  of  the  drama,  and  all  the  speculation  that  it 
involved  (and  he  was  a  born  speculator),  were  in  his 
blood.  He  heeded  the  call  and  went  back  to  the  Mad- 
ison Square  Theater. 

But  the  minstrel  field  was  to  claim  him  again  and  for 
the  last  time.  Gustave  conceived  a  plan  to  send  the 
Callender  Minstrels  on  a  spectacular  tour  across  the 
continent.  The  nucleus  of  the  old  organization,  headed 
by  the  famous  Billy  Kersands,  was  playing  in  England 
under  the  name  of  Haverly 's  European  Minstrels, 
Haverly  having  acquired  the  company  some  years  be- 
fore. Charles  was  sent  over  to  get  the  pick  of  the 
Europeans  for  the  new  aggregation.     Accompanied  by 

75 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Howard  Spear,  he  sailed  on  June  7,  1882,  on  the 
Wyomijig. 

He  encountered  some  difficulty  in  getting  the  leading 
members,  so  with  characteristic  enterprise  he  bought 
the  whole  company  from  Haverly  and  brought  it  back 
to  the  United  States,  where  it  was  put  on  the  road  as 
Callender's  Consolidated  Spectacular  Colored  Minstrels. 
On  all  the  bills  appeared  the  inscription  "Gustave  and 
Charles  Frohman,  Proprietors."  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
Charles  had  very  little  to  do  with  the  company,  although 
he  made  a  number  of  its  contracts.  His  financial  in- 
terest was  trivial.  Gustave  used  his  name  because 
Charles  had  been  prominently  associated  with  the 
Mastodons  and  he  had  achieved  some  eminence  as 
a  minstrel  promoter. 

Having  launched  the  Callender  aggregation,  he  went 
on  to  Chicago,  where  Gustave  was  putting  on  David 
Belasco's  play  "American  Born,"  with  the  author  him- 
self as  producer.  Charles  joined  his  brother  in  pro- 
moting the  enterprise. 

Now  began  the  real  friendship  between  Charles  Froh- 
man and  David  Belasco.  The  chance  contact  in  San 
Francisco  a  few  years  before  was  now  succeeded  by  a 
genuine  introduction.  The  men  took  to  each  other  in- 
stinctively and  with  a  profound  understanding.  They 
shared  the  same  room  and  had  most  of  their  meals 
together.  Then,  as  throughout  his  whole  life,  Charles 
consumed  large  portions  of  pie  (principally  apple, 
lemon  meringue,  and  pumpkin)  and  drank  large  quan- 
tities of  lemonade  or  sarsaparilla.  One  day  while 
they  were  having  lunch  together  Frohman  said  to 
Belasco : 

*  *  You  and  I  must  do  things  together.     I  mean  to  have 

76 


NEW    YORK    WHIRLPOOL 

my  own  theater  in  Broadway  and  you  will  write  the 
plays  for  it." 

''Very  well,"  replied  the  ever-ready  Belasco.  "I  will 
make  a  contract  with  you  now." 

"There  will  never  be  need  of  a  contract  between 
us,"  replied  Frohman,  who  expressed  then  the  conviction 
that  guided  him  all  the  rest  of  his  life  when  he  engaged 
the  greatest  stars  in  the  world  and  spent  millions  on 
productions  without  a  scrap  of  paper  to  show  for  the 
negotiation. 

Charles  worked  manfully  for  "American  Born."  It 
was  in  reality  his  first  intimate  connection  with  a  big 
production.  At  the  outset  his  ingenuity  saved  the  en- 
terprise from  threatened  destruction.  Harry  Petit,  a 
local  manager,  announced  a  rival  melodrama  called 
"Taken  From  Life"  at  McVicker's  Theater,  and  had  set 
his  opening  date  one  night  before  the  inaugural  of 
"American  Born." 

Charles  scratched  his  head  and  said,  "We  must  beat 
them  to  it." 

He  announced  the  "American  Born"  opening  for  a 
certain  night  and  then  opened  three  nights  earlier,  which 
beat  the  opposition  by  one  night. 

Belasco 's  play  was  spectacular  in  character  and  in- 
cluded, among  other  things,  a  realistic  fire  scene.  When 
the  time  came  for  rehearsal  the  manager  of  the  theater 
said  that  it  could  not  be  done,  because  the  fire  laws 
would  be  violated. 

"I'll  fix  that,"  said  Charles. 

He  went  down  to  the  City  Hall,  had  a  personal  inter- 
view with  the  mayor,  and  not  only  got  permission  for 
the  scene,  but  a  detail  of  real  firemen  to  act  in  it. 

While  in  Chicago,  Belasco  accepted  Daniel  Frohman's 

77 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

offer  to  come  to  New  York  as  stage-manager  of  the 
Madison  Square  Theater.  Charles  and  Belasco  came 
east  together,  and  the  intimacy  of  this  trip  tightened  the 
bond  between  them.  The  train  that  carried  them  was 
speeding  each  to  a  great  career. 

With  Belasco  installed  as  stage-manager  there  began 
a  daily  contact  between  the  two.  Belasco  went  to 
Frohman  with  all  his  troubles.  In  Frohman's  bedroom 
he  wrote  part  of  "May  Blossom,"  in  which  he  scored  his 
first  original  success  at  the  Madison  Square.  Charles 
was  enormously  interested  in  this  play,  and  after  it  was 
finished  carried  a  copy  about  in  his  pocket,  reading  it  or 
having  it  read  wherever  he  thought  it  could  find  a 
friendly  ear. 

So  great  was  Belasco' s  gratitude  that  he  gave  Charles 
a  half -interest  in  it,  which  was  probably  the  first  owner- 
ship that  Charles  Frohman  ever  had  in  a  play. 

During  those  days  at  the  Madison  Square,  when  both 
Frohman  and  Belasco  were  seeing  the  vision  of  coming 
things,  they  often  went  at  night  to  O'Neil's  Oyster 
House  on  Sixth  Avenue  near  Twenty-second  Street. 
The  day's  work  over,  they  had  a  bite  of  supper,  in 
Frohman's  case  mostly  pie  and  sarsaparilla,  and  talked 
about  the  things  they  were  going  to  do. 

Charles  Frohman's  ambition  for  a  New  York  theater 
obsessed  him.  One  night  as  they  were  walking  up 
Broadway  they  passed  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel.  A  big 
man  in  his  shirt-sleeves  sat  tilted  back  in  his  chair 
in  front  of  the  hotel.  The  two  young  men  were  just 
across  the  street  from  him.  Frohman  stopped  Belasco, 
pointed  to  the  man,  and  said: 

"David,  there  is  John  Stetson,  manager  of  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Theater.     Well,  some  day  I  am  going  to  be  as 

78 


NEW    YORK    WHIRLPOOL 

big  a  man  as  he  is  and  have  my  own  theater  on  Broad- 
way." 

Those  were  crowded  days.  Charles  not  only  picked 
and  "routed"  the  companies,  but  he  kept  a  watchful  eye 
on  them.  This  meant  frequent  traveling.  For  months 
he  lived  in  a  suit-case.  At  noon  he  would  say  to  his 
stenographer,  *'We  leave  for  Chicago  this  afternoon," 
and  he  was  off  in  a  few  hours.  At  that  time  "Hazel 
Kirke,"  "The  Professor,"  "Esmeralda,"  "Young  Mrs. 
Winthrop,"  and  "May  Blossom"  were  all  being  played 
by  road  companies  in  various  parts  of  the  United  States, 
and  it  was  a  tremendous  task  to  keep  a  watchful  eye  on 
them.  It  was  his  habit  to  go  to  a  town  where  a  company 
was  playing  and  not  appear  at  the  theater  until  the 
curtain  had  risen.  The  company  had  no  warning  of 
his  coming,  and  he  could  make  a  good  appraisal  of  their 
average  work. 

On  one  of  the  many  trips  that  he  made  about  this  time 
he  gave  evidence  of  his  constant  humor. 

He  went  out  to  Columbus,  Ohio,  to  see  a  "Hazel 
Kirke"  company.  He  arrived  at  the  theater  just  before 
matinee,  and  as  he  started  across  the  stage  he  was  met 
by  a  newly  appointed  stage-manager  who  was  full  of 
authority. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  the  man. 

"To  Mr.  Hagan's  dressing-room." 

"I'll  take  the  message,"  said  the  stage-director. 

"No,  I  want  to  see  him  personally." 

"But  you  can't.     I  am  in  charge  behind  the  curtain." 

Frohman  left  without  a  word,  went  out  to  the  box- 
office  and  wrote  a  letter,  discharging  the  stage-director. 
Then  he  sat  through  the  performance.     Directly  the 

79 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

curtain  fell  the  man  came  to  him  in  a  great  state  of 

mind. 

"Why  did  you  discharge  me,  Mr.  Frohman?" 
Frohman  smiled  and  said:    "Well,  it  was  the  only 

way  that  I  could  get  back  to  see  my  actors.     If  you  will 

promise  to  be  good  I  will  re-engage  you."     And  he  did. 

It  was  on  a  trip  of  this  same  kind  that  Charles 
had  one  of  his  many  narrow  escapes  from  death. 
During  the  spring  of  1883  he  went  out  to  Ohio  with 
Daniel  to  visit  some  of  the  road  companies.  Daniel 
left  him  at  Cleveland  to  go  over  and  see  a  performance 
of  "The  Professor"  at  Newcastle,  while  Charles  went 
on  to  join  Gustave  at  Cincinnati. 

Charles  was  accompanied  by  Frank  Guthrie,  who  was  a 
sort  of  confidential  secretary  to  all  the  Frohmans  at  the 
theater.  Shortly  before  the  train  reached  Gallon,  Charles, 
who  sat  at  the  aisle,  asked  his  companion  to  change 
places.  Ten  minutes  later  the  train  was  wrecked.  Guthrie, 
who  sat  on  the  aisle  seat,  w^as  hurled  through  the  window 
and  instantly  killed,  while  Charles  escaped  unhurt. 

Daniel  heard  of  the  wreck,  rushed  to  the  scene  on  a 
relief  train,  expecting  to  find  his  brother  dead,  for  there 
had  been  a  report  that  he  was  killed.  Instead  he  found 
Charles  bemoaning  the  death  of  his  secretary. 

A  month  afterward  Charles  and  Marc  Klaw  were  riding 
in  the  elevator  at  the  Monongahela  House  in  Pittsburg 
when  the  cable  broke  and  the  car  dropped  four  stories. 
It  had  just  been  equipped  with  an  air  cushion,  and  the 
men  escaped  without  a  scratch. 

Along  toward  the  middle  of  1883  there  were  signs  of  a 
break  at  the  Madison  Square  Theater.     Steele  Mackaye 

80 


NEW    YORK    WHIRLPOOL 

had  quarreled  with  the  Mallorys  and  had  left,  taking 
Gustave  with  him  to  launch  the  new  Lyceum  Theater 
on  Fourth  Avenue  and  Twenty-third  Street.  Daniel 
was  becoming  ambitious  to  strike  out  for  himself,  while 
Charles  was  chafing  under  the  necessity  of  being  a  subor- 
dinate. He  yearned  to  be  his  own  master.  '*I  must 
have  a  New  York  production,"  he  said.  The  wish  in  his 
case  meant  the  deed,  for  he  now  set  about  to  produce 
his  first  play. 

Naturally,  he  turned  to  Belasco  for  advice  and  co- 
operation. Both  were  still  identified  with  the  Madison 
Square  Theater,  which  made  their  negotiations  easy. 

In  San  Francisco  Charles^had  seen  a  vivid  melodrama 
called  "The  Stranglers  of  Paris,"  which  Belasco  had 
written  from  Adolphe  B clot's  story  and  produced  with 
some  success.  Osmond  Tearle,  then  leading  man  for 
Lester  Wallack  and  New  York's  leading  matinee  idol, 
had  played  in  the  West  the  part  of  Jagon,  who  was 
physically  one  of  the  ugliest  characters  in  the  play. 

'"The  Stranglers  of  Paris'  is  the  play  for  me,"  said 
Frohman  to  Belasco. 

"All  right,"  said  David;  "you  shall  have  it." 

The  original  dramatization  was  a  melodrama  without 
a  spark  of  humor.  In  rewriting  it  for  New  York,  Belasco 
injected  considerable  comedy  here  and  there. 

Frohman,  whose  vision  and  ideas  were  always  big,  said : 

"We've  got  to  get  a  great  cast.  I  will  not  be  satisfied 
with  anybody  but  Tearle." 

To  secure  Tearle,  Frohman  went  to  see  Lester  Wal- 
lack for  the  first  time.  Wallack  was  then  the  enthroned 
theatrical  king  and  one  of  the  most  inaccessible  of  men. 
Frohman  finally  contrived  to  see  him  and  made  the 
proposition  for  the  release  of  Tearle.     Ordinarily  Wal- 

8x 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

lack  would  have  treated  such  an  offer  with  scorn. 
Frohman's  convincing  manner,  however,  led  him  to 
explain,  for  he  said: 

"Mr.  Tearle  is  the  handsomest  man  in  New  York, 
and  if  I  loaned  him  to  you  to  play  the  ugliest  man  ever 
put  on  the  stage  he  would  lose  his  drawing  power  for 
me.  I  am  sorry  I  can't  accommodate  you,  Mr.  Froh- 
man.     Come  and  see  me  again." 

Out  of  that  meeting  came  a  friendship  with  Lester 
Wallack  that  developed  large  activities  for  Charles,  as 
will  be  seen  later  on. 

Unable  to  get  Tearle,  Belasco  and  Frohman  secured 
Henry  Lee,  a  brilliant  and  dashing  leading  actor  who 
had  succeeded  Eben  Plympton  in  the  cast  of  "Hazel 
Kirke."  The  leading  woman  was  Agnes  Booth,  a  well- 
known  stage  figure.  She  was  the  sister-in-law  of  Edwin 
Booth,  and  an  actress  of  splendid  quality. 

Unfortunately  for  him,  the  leading  theaters  were  all 
occupied.  There  were  only  a  few  playhouses  in  New 
York  then,  a  mere  handful  compared  with  the  enormous 
number  to-day.  But  a  little  thing  like  that  did  not 
disturb  Charles  Frohman. 

Up  at  the  northwest  corner  of  Thirty -fifth  Street  and 
Broadway  was  an  old  barnlike  structure  that  had  been 
successively  aquarium,  menagerie,  and  skating-rink.  It 
had  a  roof  and  four  walls  and  at  one  end  there  was  a 
rude  stage. 

One  night  at  midnight  Charles,  accompanied  by 
Belasco,  went  up  to  look  at  the  sorry  spectacle.  As 
a  theater  it  was  about  the  most  unpromising  structure 
in  New  York. 

"This  is  all  I  can  get,  David,"  said  Charles,  "and  it 
must  do." 

82 


NEW    YORK    WHIRLPOOL 

"But,  Charley,  it  is  not  a  theater,"  said  Belasco. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Frohman.  "I  will  have  it  made 
into  one." 

The  old  building  was  under  the  control  of  Hyde 
&  Behman,  who  were  planning  to  convert  it  into  a  vaude- 
ville house.  Frohman  went  to  see  them  and  persuaded 
them  to  turn  it  into  a  legitimate  theater.  Just  about 
this  time  the  Booth  Theater  at  Twenty-third  Street  and 
Sixth  Avenue  was  about  to  be  torn  down.  Under 
Charles's  prompting  Hyde  &  Behman  bought  the  inside 
of  that  historic  structure,  proscenium  arch,  stage,  boxes, 
and  all,  and  transported  them  to  the  Thirty-fifth  Street 
barn.  What  had  been  a  bare  hall  became  the  New 
Park  Theater,  destined  to  go  down  in  history  as  the 
playhouse  that  witnessed  many  important  productions, 
as  well  as  the  first  that  Charles  Frohman  made  on  any 
stage.  Years  afterward  this  theater  was  renamed  the 
Herald  Square. 

Charles  Frohman  now  had  a  play,  a  theater,  and  a 
cast.     With  characteristic  lavishness  he  said  to  Belasco: 

"We  must  have  the  finest  scenic  production  ever 
made  in  New  York." 

He  had  no  capital,  but  he  had  no  trouble  in  getting 
credit.  Every  one  seemed  willing  to  help  him.  He  got 
out  handsome  printing  and  advertised  extensively.  He 
spared  nothing  in  scenic  effects,  which  were  elaborate. 
He  devoted  every  spare  moment  to  attending  rehearsals. 

Among  the  supernumeraries  was  a  fat  boy  with  a 
comical  face.  At  one  of  the  rehearsals  he  sat  in  a  boat 
and  reached  out  for  something.  In  doing  this  he  fell 
overboard.  He  fell  so  comically  that  Belasco  made  his 
fall  a  part  of  the  regular  business.  His  ability  got  him 
a  few  lines,  which  were  taken  from  another  actor.     This 

83 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

fat-faced,  comical  boy  was  John  Bunny,  who  became 
the  best-known  moving-picture  star  in  the  United 
States,  and  who  to  the  end  of  his  days  never  forgot  that 
he  appeared  in  Charles  Frohman's  first  production.  He 
often  spoke  of  it  with  pride. 

The  autumn  of  1883  was  a  strenuous  one,  for  Charles 
had  staked  a  good  deal  on  "The  Stranglers  of  Paris." 
Yet  when  the  curtain  rose  on  the  evening  of  November 
10,  1883,  he  was  the  same  smiling,  eager,  but  imper- 
turbable boy  who  years  before  had  uttered  the  wish 
that  some  day  he  would  put  on  a  play  himself  in  the 
great  city.  He  now  saw  that  dream  come  true.  He 
was  just  twenty-three. 

"The  Stranglers  of  Paris"  made  quite  a  sensation. 
The  scenic  effects  were  highly  praised,  and  especially 
the  ship  scene,  which  showed  convicts  in  their  cages, 
their  revolt,  the  sinking  of  the  vessel,  Jagon's  struggle 
in  the  water,  his  escape  from  death,  and  his  dramatic 
appeal  to  Heaven.  Lee  scored  a  great  success  and  dated 
his  popularity  from  this  appearance. 

Many  of  the  lines  in  the  piece  were  widely  quoted,  one 
of  them  in  particular.  It  was  in  substance,  "Money 
has  power  to  open  prison  gates,  and  no  questions 
asked." 

It  was  the  time  of  sensational  graft  revelations,  and 
theater-goers  thought  that  it  fitted  the  New  York 
situation. 

"The  Stranglers  of  Paris"  ran  at  the  New  Park 
Theater  until  December  9,  when  it  was  taken  on  the 
road.  It  continued  on  tour  for  a  considerable  period, 
playing  most  of  the  principal  cities  of  the  East,  but  the 
production  was  so  expensive  that  it  made  no  money. 
In  fact,  Charles  lost  on  the  enterprise,  but  it  did  not  in 

84 


VIOLA  ALLEN 


NEW    YORK    WHIRLPOOL 

the  least  dash  his  spirits.     He  was  supremely  content 
because  at  last  he  had  produced  a  play. 

"The  Stranglers  of  Paris"  filled  the  budding  manager 
with  a  renewed  zeal  to  be  a  producer.  He  was  still  en- 
thusiastic about  the  melodrama,  so  he  secured  a  vivid 
piece  by  R.  G.  Morris,  a  New  York  newspaper  man, 
called  "The  Pulse  of  New  York,"  which  he  produced  at 
the  Star  Theater,  Thirteenth  Street  and  Broadway, 
which  had  been  originally  Wallack's  Theater. 

In  the  cast  was  a  handsome,  painstaking  young  woman 
named  Viola  Allen,  whom  Charles  had  singled  out  be- 
cause of  her  admirable  work  in  a  play  that  he  had  seen, 
and  who  was  headed  for  a  big  place  in  the  annals  of  the 
American  theater.  The  youthful  manager  encouraged 
her  and  did  much  to  aid  her  progress. 

Others  in  the  cast  were  Caroline  Hill,  A.  S.  Lipman, 
Edward  S.  Coleman,  L.  F.  Massen,  Frank  Lane,  Henry 
Tarbon,  W.  L.  Denison,  George  Clarke,  H.  D.  Clifton, 
Ada  Deaves,  Max  Freeman,  Edward  Pancoast,  Frank 
Green,  Gerald  Eyre,  Nick  Long,  Frederick  Barry,  Oscar 
Todd,  John  March,  Charles  Frew,  Richard  Fox,  James 
Maxwell,  J.  C.  Arnold,  Stanley  Macy,  Lida  Lacy,  George 
Mathews,  and  William  Rose. 

"The  Pulse  of  New  York"  was  produced  May  lo, 
1884,  but  ran  only  three  weeks.  Once  more  Charles 
faced  a  loss,  but  he  met  this  as  he  met  the  misfortunes 
of  later  years,  with  smiling  equanimity. 

Now  came  a  characteristic  act.  He  was  still  in  the 
employ  of  the  Madison  Square  Theater  and  had  a 
guarantee  of  one  hundred  dollars  a  week.  Although  he 
had  devoted  considerable  time  to  his  two  previous  pro- 
ductions, he  was  an  invaluable  asset  to  the  establishment. 

85 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

He  now  felt  that  the  time  had  come  for  him  to  choose 
between  remaining  at  the  Madison  Square  under  a 
guarantee  and  striking  out  for  himself  on  the  precarious 
sea  of  independent  theatrical  management.  He  chose 
the  latter,  and  launched  a  third  enterprise. 

In  his  wanderings  about  New  York  theaters  Charles 
saw  a  serious-eyed  young  actress  named  Minnie  Mad- 
dern.     He  said  to  Daniel : 

**I  have  great  confidence  in  that  young  woman.  Will 
you  help  me  put  her  out  in  a  piece?" 

''All  right,"  replied  his  brother. 

The  net  result  was  Miss  Maddern  in  "Caprice." 

In  view  of  subsequent  stage  history  this  company  was 
somewhat  historic.  Miss  Maddern 's  salary  was  seventy- 
five  dollars  a  week.  Her  leading  man,  who  had  been 
a  general-utility  actor  at  the  Lyceum,  and  who  also 
received  seventy-five  dollars  a  week,  was  Henry  Miller. 
A  handsome  young  lad  named  Cyril  Scott  played  a  very 
small  part  and  got  fifteen  dollars  a  week.  The  total 
week's  salary  of  the  company  amounted  to  only  six 
hundred  and  ninety  dollars. 

"Caprice"  opened  at  Indianapolis  November  6,  1884, 
and  subsequently  played  Chicago,  St.  Louis,  Evansville, 
Dayton,  and  Baltimore,  with  a  week  at  the  Grand 
Opera  House  in  New  York,  where  its  season  closed.  It 
made  no  money,  but  it  did  a  great  deal  toward  advancing 
the  career  of  Miss  Maddern,  who  afterward  became 
known  to  millions  of  theater-goers  as  Mrs.  Fiske. 

Charles  had  now  made  three  productions  on  his  own 
hook  and  began  to  impress  his  courage  and  his  person- 
ality on  the  theatrical  world.  He  had  definitely  com- 
mitted himself  to  a  career  of  independent  management, 
and  from  this  time  on  he  went  it  alone. 

86 


BOOKING-AGENT    AND    BROADWAY    PRODUCER 

rHE  season  of  1883-84  had  seen  Charles  Frohman 
launched  as  independent  manager.  He  had  at  its 
conclusion  cut  his  managerial  teeth  on  the  last  of 
three  productions  which,  while  not  financially  successful, 
had  shown  the  remarkable  quality  of  his  ability.  People 
now  began  to  talk  about  the  nervy,  energetic  young 
man  who  could  go  from  failure  to  failure  with  a  smile  on 
his  face.  It  is  a  tradition  in  theatrical  management 
that  successful  starts  almost  invariably  mean  disastrous 
finishes.  An  auspicious  beginning  usually  leads  to  ex- 
travagance and  lack  of  balance.  Failure  at  the  out- 
set provokes  caution.  Charles,  therefore,  had  enough 
early  hard  jolts  to  make  him  careful. 

He  always  admired  big  names.  Thus  it  came  about 
that  his  next  venture  was  associated  with  a  name 
and  a  prestige  that  meant  much  and,  later  on,  cost 
much.  Just  about  that  time  he  met  a  handsome  young 
English  actor  named  E.  H.  Sothern,  who  had  come  to 
this  country  with  his  sister  and  who  had  appeared  for  a 
short  time  with  John  McCullough,  the  tragedian.  Soth- 
ern had  returned  to  New  York  and  was  looking  for  an 
engagement. 

In  those  days  actors  usually  secured  engagements  by 
running  down  rumors  of  productions  that  were  afloat 
on  the  Rialto.     In  this  way  Sothern  heard  that  Charles 

87 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Frohman  was  about  to  send  out  an  English  play  called 
''Nita's  First,"  which  had  been  produced  at  Wallack's 
Theater.  Sothern  called  on  Frohman  and  asked  to  be 
engaged. 

"What  salary  do  you  want?"  asked  Frohman. 

Sothern  said  he  wanted  fifty  dollars. 

"All  right,"  said  Frohman.  "The  part  is  worth 
seventy -five  dollars,  and  I'll  pay  it." 

Twenty  years  later  the  manager  paid  this  same  actor 
a  salary  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  a  season 
of  forty  weeks  in  Shakespearian  roles. 

"Nita's  First,"  however,  ran  for  only  two  weeks  on  the 
road,  and  Charles  ended  the  engagement.  The  reason  was 
that  he  had  conceived  what  he  considered  a  brilliant  idea. 

Lester  Wallack  and  the  Wallack  Theater  Company 
almost  dominated  the  New  York  dramatic  situation. 
The  company,  headed  by  Wallack  himself,  included  Rose 
Coghlan,  Osmond  Tearle,  John  Gilbert,  and  a  whole 
galaxy  of  brilliant  people.  The  Wallack  Theater  plays 
were  the  talk  of  the  town.  Frohman  had  an  inspiration 
which  he  communicated  one  day  to  Lester  Wallack's 
son,  Arthur,  whom  he  knew.     To  Aithur  he  said: 

"What  do  you  think  about  my  taking  the  Wallack 
successes  out  on  the  road  ?  It  is  a  shame  not  to  capital- 
ize the  popular  interest  in  them  while  it  is  hot.  Look 
at  what  the  Madison  Square  Theater  has  been  doing. 
Will  you  speak  to  your  father  about  it?" 

Arthur  spoke  to  his  father,  who  was  not  averse  to  the 
idea,  and  Charles  was  bidden  to  the  great  presence. 
He  had  met  Lester  Wallack  before  when  he  tried  to  en- 
gage Osmond  Tearle  for  "The  Stranglers  of  Paris." 
Now  came  the  real  meeting.  After  Frohman  had  stated 
his  case  with  all  his  persuasion,  he  added: 

88 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

*'I  am  sure  I  can  make  you  rich.  You  have  over- 
looked a  great  chance  to  make  money." 

Lester  Wallack  said,  '*It  is  a  good  idea,  Mr.  Frohman, 
but  your  company  must  reflect  credit  upon  the  theater, 
and  your  leading  woman  must  be  of  the  same  type  as 
my  leading  woman.  Rose  Coghlan." 

Charles  immediately  said,  ''The  company  shall  be 
worthy  of  you  and  the  name  it  bears." 

Lester  Wallack  agreed  to  rehearse  the  company  and  to 
permit  his  name  to  be  used  in  connection  with  it.  After 
Charles  left,  Lester  Wallack  said  to  his  son: 

''Watch  that  young  man,  Arthur.  He  is  going  to 
make  his  mark." 

Arthur  Wallack  was  about  to  take  a  trip  to  England, 
and  Charles  commissioned  him  to  engage  the  leading 
people.  He  therefore  engaged  Sophie  Eyre,  who  had 
been  leading  woman  at  the  Drury  Lane  Theater,  and 
W.  H.  Denny. 

Charles  himself  selected  the  remaining  members  of 
the  company,  who  were  Newton  Gotthold;  C.  B.  Wells; 
Charles  Wheatleigh;  Max  Freeman;  Rowland  Buck- 
stone;  Henry  Talbot;  Sam  Dubois;  George  Clarke; 
Fred  Corbett;  Louise  Dillon,  who  had  been  with  him 
in  the  precarious  Stoddart  Comedy  days;  Kate  Denin 
Wilson;   Agnes  Elliot;   and  Grace  Wilson. 

At  the  time  he  engaged  the  Wallack  Theater  Com- 
pany Charles  had  no  office.  He  was  then  Hving  at  the 
Coleman  House  on  Broadway,  just  opposite  the  then 
celebrated  Gilsey  House.  Most  of  the  engagements 
were  made  as  he  sat  in  a  big  leather  chair  in  the  lobby, 
with  one  foot  thrown  over  an  arm  of  it. 

The  principal  capital  that  Charles  had  for  this  ven- 
ture was  five  thousand  dollars  put  up  by  Daniel  J. 
7  89 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Bernstein,  who  became  treasurer  of  the  company. 
Alf  Hay  man,  whom  Frohman  had  met  in  Philadelphia, 
was  engaged  as  advance-agent. 

It  was  a  courageous  undertaking  even  for  a  seasoned 
and  well-financed  theatrical  veteran.  Although  Lester 
Wallack  was  well  known,  his  theater  and  its  successes 
were  not  familiar  to  the  great  mass  of  people  outside 
New  York.  In  those  days  theatrical  publicity  was  not 
as  widespread  as  now.  No  wonder,  then,  that  the 
daring  of  a  young  manager  of  twenty-five  in  taking  out 
a  company  whose  weekly  salary  list  was  nearly  thirteen 
hundred  dollars  was  commented  on. 

Charles  called  his  aggregation  the  Wallack  Theater 
Company.  The  repertoire  consisted  mainly  of  "Victor 
Durand,"  a  play  by  Henry  Guy  Carleton  which  had 
been  produced  at  Wallack's  on  December  13,  1884. 
Subsequently  the  company  also  played  "Moths," 
"Lady  Clare,"  "Diplomacy,"  and  Belasco's  "La  Belle 
Russe." 

This  tour,  which  was  to  write  itself  indelibly  on  the 
career  of  Charles  Frohman,  began  in  Chicago  and  was 
continued  through  the  South  to  New  Orleans,  where  a 
stay  of  six  weeks  was  made  at  the  St.  Charles  Theater. 
Belasco  joined  them  here  for  a  week  to  put  on  "The 
World,"  which  had  been  produced  at  Wallack's  a  short 
time  before. 

In  New  Orleans  occurred  one  of  those  encounters  in 
Charles  Frohman* s  life  that  led  to  lifelong  friendship. 
Two  years  before,  while  playing  a  Madison  Square  com- 
pany at  one  of  the  theaters  in  St.  Louis,  he  had  met  a 
bright  young  man  in  the  box-ofBce  named  Augustus 
Thomas.  Thomas  was  then  a  newspaper  man  and  was 
beginning  to  write  plays.     He  told  Charles  that  he  had 

90 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

just  made  a  short  play  out  of  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett's 
story,  "Editha's  Burglar." 

In  New  Orleans  Charles  discovered  that  young  Thomas 
was  playing  in  his  own  play  at  a  near-by  theater 
and  went  over  to  see  him.  After  the  performance  he 
visited  him  in  his  dressing-room,  renewed  his  acquaint- 
ance, and  said  to  him  with  the  optimism  of  youth: 

"Mr.  Thomas,  I  hope  that  some  day  you  will  write 
a  play  for  me." 

The  company  now  made  a  tour  of  Texas,  where  the 
troubles  began.  Business  declined,  but  Frohman  suc- 
ceeded in  landing  the  company  in  Chicago  after  a  series 
of  misfortunes.  Here  Sophie  Eyre  retired  and  was  suc- 
ceeded by  Louise  Dillon  as  leading  woman.  Charles, 
of  course,  had  no  money  with  which  to  buy  costumes,  so 
she  pawned  her  jewels  and  used  the  proceeds.  Sadie 
Bigelow  took  her  place  as  ingenue. 

Charles  now  started  his  famous  tour  of  the  Northwest 
which  rivaled  the  Stoddart  days  in  hardship  and  in 
humor.  The  Northern  Pacific  Railroad  had  just  been 
opened  to  the  coast,  and  Charles  followed  the  new  route. 
A  series  of  tragic,  dramatic,  and  comic  experiences  began. 
The  tour  was  through  the  heart  of  the  old  cow  country. 
One  night,  when  the  train  was  stalled  by  the  wrecking  of 
a  bridge  near  Miles  City,  Montana,  a  group  of  cowboys 
started  to  "shoot  up"  the  train.  Frohman,  with  ready 
resource,  singled  out  the  leader  and  said: 

"We've  got  a  theatrical  company  here  and  we  will 
give  you  a  performance." 

He  got  Rowland  Buckstone  to  stand  out  on  the 
prairie  and  recite  "The  Smuggler's  Life,"  "The  Execu- 
tion," and  "The  Sanguinary  Pirate"  by  the  light  of  a  big 

91 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

bonfire  which  was  built  while  the  show  was  going  on. 
This  tickled  the  cowboys  and  brought  salvos  of  shots  and 
shouts  of  laughter. 

At  Miles  City  occurred  what  might  have  been  a 
serious  episode.  When  the  company  reached  the  hotel 
at  about  eleven  in  the  morning  Charles  Wheatleigh, 
the  "first  old  man,"  asked  the  hotel-keeper  what  time 
breakfast  was  served.  When  he  replied  ''Eight-thirty 
o'clock,"  Wheatleigh  pounded  the  desk  and  said: 

' '  That  is  for  farmers.     When  do  artists  eat  ? ' ' 

The  clerk  was  a  typical  Westerner,  and  thought  this 
was  an  insult.  He  made  a  lunge  for  Wheatleigh,  when 
Frohman  stepped  in  and  settled  the  difficulty  in  his 
usual  suave  and  smiling  way. 

At  Butte  came  another  characteristic  example  of  the 
Frohman  enterprise  and  resource.  It  was  necessary 
at  all  hazards  to  get  an  audience.  When  Charles  got 
there  he  found  that  the  wife  of  the  leading  gambler  had 
died.  He  expressed  so  much  sympathy  for  the  bereaved 
man  that  he  was  made  a  pall-bearer,  and  this  act  created 
such  an  impression  on  the  townspeople  that  they 
flocked  to  the  theater  at  night. 

At  Missoula,  Montana,  Charles  went  out  ahead  of  the 
show  for  a  week.  Approaching  the  treasurer  at  the 
box-office,  he  said: 

"Will  you  please  let  me  have  a  hundred  dollars  on 
account  of  the  show?" 

"I  can't,"  replied  the  man.  "We  haven't  sold  a 
single  seat  for  any  of  your  performances." 

Frohman  thought  a  moment  and  walked  out  of  the 
lobby.  All  afternoon  orders  for  seats  began  to  come 
in  to  the  box-office.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  when 
Frohman  got  back,  the  agent  smiled  and  said: 

92 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

"Mr.  Frohman,  I  can  let  you  have  that  hundred 
dollars  now.  We  are  beginning  to  have  quite  an 
advance  sale." 

Frohman  had  gone  down-town  and  sent  in  the  orders 
for  the  seats  himself.     He  used  fictitious  names. 

Now  began  a  summer  of  hardships.  With  the  utmost 
difficulty  the  company  got  to  Portland,  Oregon,  where 
Charles  established  a  sort  of  headquarters.  From  this 
point  he  sent  the  company  on  short  tours.  But  business 
continued  to  be  bad. 

He  started  a  series  of  * 'farewell"  performances,  as  he 
did  in  Texas,  and  placarded  the  city  with  the  bills  an- 
nouncing ' '  positively ' '  closing  performances.  These  bills 
were  typical  of  the  publicity  talents  of  Charles  Frohman. 
He  headed  them  "Good-by  Engagements,"  and  added 
the  words,  "A  Long,  Lingering  Farewell."  Under 
"Favorites'  Farewell"  he  printed  the  names  of  the 
members  of  the  company  with  the  titles  or .  parts  in 
which  they  were  known.  "Good-by,  Louise  Dillon, 
our  Esmeralda";  "Good-by,  Kate  Denin  Wilson, 
Pretty  Lady  Dolly";  "Good-by,  Charles  B.  Wells, 
Faithful  Dave  Hardy";  "Good -by,  Rowland  Buck- 
stone,  Some  Other  Man" — were  typical  illustrations  of 
his  attempt  to  make  a  strong  appeal  for  business. 

Actual  money  in  the  company  was  a  novelty.  Bern- 
stein's five  thousand  dollars  had  long  since  vanished. 
When  a  member  of  the  company  wanted  some  cash  it 
had  to  be  extracted  from  the  treasurer  in  one-dollar 
instalments. 

Despite  the  hardships,  the  utmost  good  humor  and 
feeling  prevailed.  Most  of  the  members  of  the  company 
were  young;  there  was  no  bickering.  They  knew  that 
Frohman's  struggle  was  with  and  for  them.     They  called 

93 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

him  **The  Governor,"  and  he  always  referred  to  them 
as  his  **nice  Httle  company."  All  looked  forward  con- 
fidently to  better  days,  and  in  this  belief  they  were  sup- 
ported and  inspired  by  the  cheery  philosophy  of  the 
manager. 

Charles's  resource  was  tested  daily.  He  had  booked 
a  near-by  town  for  fair  week,  which  always  meant  good 
business.  At  last  he  had  money  in  sight.  The  local 
manager,  however,  insisted  upon  a  great  display  of  fancy 
printing.  Charles  was  in  a  dilemma  because  he  owed 
his  printer  a  big  bill  and  he  had  no  more  lithographs  on 
hand.  A  friend  who  was  in  advance  of  William  Gil- 
lette's play,  ''The  Private  Secretary,"  came  along  with 
a  lot  of  his  own  paper.  Charles  borrowed  a  quantity 
of  it  and  also  from  the  "Whose  Baby  Are  You?"  com- 
pany, covered  over  these  two  titles  with  slips  containing 
the  words  *'Lady  Clare, "  the  piece  he  was  going  to  pre- 
sent. He  billed  the  town  with  great  success  and  was 
able  to  keep  going. 

During  the  Portland  sojourn  Charles  sent  the  com- 
pany on  to  Salem,  Oregon.  While  there,  six  members 
had  their  photographs  taken  with  a  disconsolate  look 
on  their  faces  and  with  Buckstone  holding  a  dollar  in 
his  hand.  They  sent  the  picture  to  Frohman  with 
the  inscription : 

"From  your  nice  little  company  waiting  for  its 
salary." 

At  Portland,  Oregon,  A.  D.  Charlton,  who  was  pas- 
senger agent  of  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad,  and  who 
had  been  of  great  service  to  Charles  in  extricating  him 
from  various  financial  difficulties,  said  to  him  one  day: 

"Frohman,  I  want  you  to  meet  a  very  promising  little 
actress  who  is  out  here  with  her  mother.** 

94 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

Frohman  said  he  would  be  glad,  and,  accompanying 
Charlton  to  his  office,  was  introduced  to  Annie  Adams, 
a  well-known  actress  from  Salt  Lake  City,  and  her 
wistful-eyed  little  daughter,  Maude.  They  were  both 
members  of  the  John  McGuire  Company.  This  was 
Charles  Frohman's  first  meeting  with  Maude  Adams. 

At  Portland  Frohman  added  *'Two  Orphans"  and 
"Esmeralda"  to  the  company's  repertoire.  But  it 
barely  got  them  out  of  town  at  the  really  and  truly 
"farewell." 

Now  began  a  return  journey  from  Portland  that  was 
even  more  precarious  than  the  trip  out.  Baggage  had 
to  be  sacrificed ;  there  was  scarcely  any  scenery.  One 
"back  drop"  showing  the  interior  of  a  cathedral  was 
used  for  every  kind  of  scene,  from  a  gambling-house  to 
a  ball-room.  To  the  financial  hardship  of  the  home- 
ward trip  was  added  real  physical  trial.  Frohman 
showed  in  towns  wherever  there  was  the  least  prospect 
of  any  kind  of  a  house.  The  company  therefore  played 
in  skating-rinks,  school-houses,  even  bams.  In  some 
places  the  members  of  the  company  had  to  take  the  oil- 
lamps  that  served  as  footlights  back  in  the  make- 
shift dressing-rooms  while  they  dressed. 

At  Bozeman,  Montana,  occurred  an  incident  which 
showed  both  the  humor  and  the  precariousness  of  the 
situation.  Frohman  assembled  the  company  in  the 
waiting-room  of  the  station  and,  stepping  up  to  the 
ticket-office,  laid  down  one  hundred  and  thirty  dollars 
in  cash. 

"Where  do  you  want  to  go?"  asked  the  agent. 

Shoving  the  money  at  him,  Frohman  said,  "How  far 
will  this  take  us?" 

95 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

The  agent  looked  out  of  the  window,  counted  up  the 
company,  and  said,  "To  Billings." 

Turning  to  the  company,  Frohman  said,  with  a  smile, 
"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  we  play  Billings  next." 

Just  then  he  received  a  telegram  from  Alf  Hay  man, 
who  was  on  ahead  of  the  company: 

What  town  shall  I  bill? 
Frohman  wired  back : 

Bill  Billings. 

Hayman  again  wired: 

Have  no  printing  and  can  get  no  credit.  What 
shall  I  do? 

Frohman 's  resource  came  into  stead,  for  he  tele- 
graphed : 

Notify  theaters  that  we  are  a  high-class  company 
from  Wallack's  Theater  in  New  York  and  use 
no  ordinary  printing.  We  employ  only  news- 
papers and  dodgers. 

At  Missoula,  Montana,  on  their  way  back,  a  member 
of  the  company  became  dissatisfied  and  stood  with  his 
associates  at  the  station  where  two  trains  met,  one  for 
the  east  and  one  for  the  west.  As  the  train  for  the  east 
slowed  up  the  actor  rushed  toward  it  and,  calling  to  the 
members  of  the  company,  said: 

"I  am  leaving  you  for  good.  You'll  never  get  any- 
where with  Frohman." 

The  company,  however,  elected  to  stay  with  Frohman. 
In  later  years  this  actor  fell  into  hardship.     Frohman 

96 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

singled  him  out,  and  from  that  time  on  until  Frohman*s 
death  he  had  a  good  engagement  every  year  in  a  Frohman 
company. 

At  Bismarck,  North  Dakota,  the  company  gave 
"Moths."  In  this  play  the  spurned  hero,  a  singer,  has 
a  line  which  reads,  ''There  are  many  marquises,  but  very 
few  tenors.'' 

Money  had  been  so  scarce  for  months  that  this  remark 
was  the  last  straw,  so  the  company  burst  into  laughter, 
and  the  performance  was  nearly  broken  up.  Frohman, 
who  stood  in  the  back  of  the  house,  enjoyed  it  as  much 
as  the  rest. 

Through  all  these  hardships  Frohman  remained  serene 
and  smiling.  His  unfailing  optimism  tided  over  the 
dark  days.  The  end  came  at  Winona,  Minnesota.  The 
company  had  sacrificed  everything  it  could  possibly  sac- 
rifice. Frohman  borrowed  a  considerable  sum  from  the 
railroad  agent  to  go  to  Chicago,  where  he  obtained  six 
hundred  dollars  from  Frank  Sanger.  With  this  he  paid 
the  friendly  agent  and  brought  the  company  back  to 
New  York. 

Even  the  last  lap  of  this  disastrous  journey  was  not 
without  its  humor.  The  men  were  all  assembled  in  the 
smoking-car  on  the  way  from  Albany  to  New  York. 
Frohman  for  once  sat  silent.  When  somebody  asked 
him  why  he  looked  so  glum,  he  said,  "I'm  thinking  of 
what  I  have  got  to  face  to-morrow." 

Up  spoke  Wheatleigh,  whose  marital  troubles  were 
well  known.     He  slapped  Frohman  on  the  back  and  said : 

"Charley,  your  troubles  are  slight.  Think  of  me. 
I've  got  to  face  my  wife  to-morrow." 

It  was  characteristic  of  Frohman 's  high  sense  of 
integrity  that  he  gave  his  personal  note  to  each  member 

97 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

of  the  company  for  back  salary  in  full,  and  before  five 
years  passed  had  discharged  every  debt. 

On  arriving  in  New  York  Charles  had  less  than  a  dollar 
in  his  pocket,  his  clothes  were  worn,  and  he  looked 
generally  much  the  worse  for  wear.  On  the  street  he 
met  Belasco.  They  pooled  their  finances  and  went  to 
"Beefsteak  John's,"  where  they  had  a  supper  of  kidney 
stew,  pie,  and  tea.  They  renewed  the  old  experiences 
at  O' Neil's  restaurant  and  talked  about  what  they  were 
going  to  do. 

The  next  day  Frohman  was  standing  speculatively  in 
front  of  the  Coleman  House  when  he  met  Jack  Rickaby, 
a  noted  theatrical  figure  of  the  time.  Rickaby  slapped 
the  young  man  on  the  back  and  said : 

''Frohman,  I  am  glad  you  have  had  a  good  season. 
You're  going  to  be  a  big  man  in  this  profession." 

He  shook  Frohman' s  hand  warmly  and  walked  away. 

It  was  the  first  cheering  word  that  Frohman  had 
heard.  The  news  of  his  disastrous  trip  had  not  become 
known.  Always  proud,  he  was  glad  of  it.  After  Rick- 
aby had  shaken  his  hand  he  felt  something  in  it,  and  on 
looking  he  saw  that  the  big-hearted  manager  had 
placed  a  hundred-dollar  bill  there.  Rickaby  had  known 
all  along  the  story  of  the  Wallack  tour  hardships,  and  it 
was  his  way  of  expressing  sympathy.  Frohman  after- 
ward said  it  was  the  most  touching  moment  in  his  life. 
Speaking  of  this  once,  he  said: 

''That  hundred-dollar  bill  looked  bigger  than  any 
sum  of  money  I  have  ever  had  since." 

It  was  late  in  1885  when  Charles  returned  from  the 
disastrous  Wallack's  Theater  tour,  bankrupt  in  finance, 

98 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

but  almost  over-capitalized  in  courage  and  plans  for  the 
future.  Up  to  that  time  he  had  no  regular  office. 
Like  many  of  the  managers  of  the  day,  his  office  was  in 
his  hat.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  set  up  an  establish- 
ment of  his  own.  It  required  no  capital  to  embark  in 
the  booking  business  in  those  days.  Nerve  and  resiliency 
were  the  two  principal  requisites. 

The  first  Frohman  offices  were  at  12 15  Broadway,  in 
the  same  building  that  housed  Daly's  Theater.  In  two 
small  rooms  on  the  second  floor  Charles  Frohman  laid 
the  comer-stone  of  what  in  later  years  became  a  chain 
of  offices  and  interests  that  reached  wherever  the 
EngHsh  language  was  spoken  on  the  stage.  The  inter- 
esting contrast  here  was  that  while  Augustin  Daly,  then 
in  the  heyday  of  his  great  success,  was  creating  theatrical 
history  on  the  stage  below  him,  Charles  Frohman  was 
beginning  his  real  managerial  career  up-stairs. 

Frohman's  first  associate  was  W.  W.  Randall,  a 
San  Francisco  newspaper  man  whom  he  had  met  in  the 
Haverly's  Minstrel  days,  in  the  mean  time  manager  of 
"The  Private  Secretary"  and  several  of  the  Madison 
Square  companies  on  the  road.  He  was  alert  and  ag- 
gressive and  knew  the  technique  of  the  theatrical  busi- 
ness. 

Charles  Frohman's  poHcy  was  always  pretentious,  so 
he  set  up  two  distinct  firms.  One  was  the  ''Randall's 
Theatrical  Bureau,  Charles  Frohman  and  W.  W.  Ran- 
dall, Managers,"  which  was  under  Randall's  direction 
and  which  booked  attractions  for  theaters  throughout 
the  country  on  a  fee  basis.  The  other  was  called 
"Frohman  &  Randall,  General  Theatrical  Managers." 
Its  function  was  to  produce  plays  and  was  directly  under 
Charleses  supervision.     The  two  firm  names  were  em- 

99 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

blazoned  on  the  door  and  business  was  started.  Their 
first  employee  was  JuHus  Cahn. 

These  offices  have  an  historic  interest  aside  from  the 
fact  that  they  were  the  first  to  be  occupied  by  Charles 
Frohman.  Out  of  them  grew  really  the  whole  modern 
system  of  booking  attractions.  Up  to  that  era  theatrical 
booking  methods  were  different  from  those  of  the  present 
time;  there  were  no  great  centralized  agencies  to  book 
attractions  for  strings  of  theaters  covering  the  entire 
country.  Union  Square  was  the  Rialto,  the  heart  and 
center  of  the  booking  business.  The  out-of-town  man- 
ager came  there  to  fill  his  time  for  the  season.  Much  of 
the  booking  was  done  in  a  haphazard  way  on  the  side- 
walk, and  whole  seasons  were  booked  on  the  curb,  merely 
noted  in  pocket  note-books.  Two  methods  of  booking 
were  then  in  vogue:  one  by  the  manager  of  a  company 
who  wrote  from  New  York  to  the  towns  for  time;  the 
other  through  an  agent  of  out-of-town  house  managers 
located  in  New  York.  It  was  this  latter  system  that 
Frohman  and  Randall  began  to  develop  in  a  scientific 
fashion.  Charles's  extensive  experience  on  the  road  and 
his  knowledge  of  the  theatrical  status  of  the  different 
towns  made  him  a  valuable  agent. 

Frohman  and  Randall  at  that  time  practically  had  the 
field  to  themselves.  Brooks  &  Dickson,  an  older  firm 
which  included  the  well-known  Joseph  Brooks  of  later 
managerial  fame,  had  conducted  the  first  booking- 
office  of  any  consequence,  but  had  now  retired.  H.  S. 
Taylor  had  just  established  on  Fourteenth  Street  Tay- 
lor's Theatrical  Exchange,  destined  to  figure  in  theatrical 
history  as  the  forerunner  of  the  Klaw  &  Erlanger 
business. 

Despite  the  high-sounding  titles  on  the  door,   the 

lOO 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

Frohman  offices  were  unpretentious.  Frohman  and 
Randall  had  a  desk  apiece,  and  there  was  a  second-hand 
iron  safe  in  the  corner.  When  Frohman  was  asked,  one 
day  soon  after  the  shingle  had  been  hung  out,  what  the 
safe  was  for,  he  replied,  with  his  characteristic  humor : 

"We  keep  the  coal-scuttle  in  it." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  there  was  more  truth  than  poetry 
in  this  remark,  because  the  office  assets  were  so  low  that 
during  the  winter  the  firm  had  to  burn  gas  all  day  to 
keep  warm.  When  asked  the  reason  for  this,  Frohman 
said,  jocularly: 

"We  can  get  more  credit  if  we  use  gas,  because  the  gas 
bill  has  to  be  paid  only  once  a  month.     Coal  is  cash." 

Indeed,  the  office  was  so  cold  during  that  season  that 
it  came  to  be  known  in  the  profession  as  the  "Cave  of 
the  Winds,"  and  this  title  was  no  reflection  on  the  vocal 
qualities  of  the  proprietors. 

It  was  during  those  early  and  precarious  days  when 
Frohman  was  still  saddled  with  the  debts  of  the  Wal- 
lack's  tour  that  one  of  the  most  amusing  incidents  of  his 
life  happened.  One  morning  he  was  served  with  the 
notice  of  a  supplementary  proceeding  which  had  been 
instituted  against  him.  He  was  always  afraid  of  the 
courts,  and  he  was  much  alarmed.  He  rushed  across  the 
street  to  the  Gilsey  House  and  consulted  Henry  E.  Dixey, 
the  actor,  who  was  living  there.  Dixey 's  advice  was  to 
get  a  lawyer.  Together  they  returned  to  the  Daly's 
Theater  Building,  where  Frohman  knew  a  lawyer  was 
installed  on  the  top  floor.  They  found  the  lawyer  black- 
ing that  portion  of  his  white  socks  that  appeared  through 
the  holes  in  his  shoes. 

Frohman  stated  his  case,  which  the  lawyer  accepted. 
He  then  demanded  a  two-dollar  fee.     Frohman  had  only 

lOI 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

one  dollar  in  his  pocket  and  borrowed  the  other  dollar 
from  Dixey. 

"This  money,"  said  the  lawyer,  "is  to  be  paid  into 
the  court.     How  about  my  fee?" 

Frohman  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  produced  a  ten- 
cent  piece.  He  handed  it  to  the  lawyer,  saying:  "I 
will  pay  you  later  on.  Here  is  your  car-fare.  Be  sure 
to  get  to  court  before  it  opens." 

Frohman  and  Dixey  left.  Frohman  was  much 
agitated.  They  walked  around  the  block  several  times. 
When  he  heard  the  clock  strike  ten  he  said  to  Dixey: 

'  *  Now  the  lawyer  is  in  the  court-room  and  the  matter 
is  being  settled. ' '  In  his  expansive  relief  he  said :  *  *  I  have 
credit  at  Browne's  Chop  House.  Let  us  go  over  and 
have  breakfast." 

At  the  restaurant  they  ordered  a  modest  meal.  As 
Frohman  looked  up  from  his  table  he  saw  a  man  sitting 
directly  opposite  whose  face  was  hid  behind  a  newspaper. 
In  front  of  him  was  a  pile  of  wheat-cakes  about  a  foot 
high. 

"Gee  whiz!"  said  Frohman.  "I  wish  I  had  enough 
money  to  buy  a  stack  of  wheat-cakes  that  high." 

As  he  said  this  to  Dixey  the  man  opposite  happened 
to  lower  his  paper  and  revealed  himself  to  be  the  lawyer 
Frohman  had  just  engaged.  He  was  having  a  breakfast 
spree  himself  with  the  two  dollars  extracted  from  his 
two  recent  clients. 

Business  began  to  pick  up  with  the  new  year.  The 
first,  and  what  afterward  proved  to  be  the  most  profit- 
able, clients  of  the  booking-office  were  the  Baldwin  and 
CaHfornia  theaters  in  San  Francisco.  They  were  domi- 
nated by  Al  Hayman,  brother  of  Alf ,  a  man  who  now  came 

I02 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

intimately  into  Charles  Frohman's  life  and  remained  so 
until  the  end.  He  was  a  Philadelphian  who  had  con- 
ducted various  traveling  theatrical  enterprises  in  Austra- 
Ha  and  had  met  Frohman  for  the  first  time  in  London 
when  the  latter  went  over  with  the  Haver ly  Mastodons. 
Hayman  admired  Frohman  very  much  and  soon  made 
him  general  Eastern  representative  of  all  his  extensive 
Pacific  coast  interests. 

Hayman  was  developing  into  a  magnate  of  impor- 
tance. With  his  assistance  Charles  was  able  to  book  a 
company  all  the  way  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco. 
Charles  made  himself  responsible  for  the  time  between 
New  York  and  Kansas  City,  while  Hayman  would 
guarantee  the  company's  time  from  Kansas  City  or 
Omaha  to  the  coast. 

Frohman  and  Randall  made  a  good  team,  and  they 
soon  acquired  a  chain  of  more  than  three  hundred 
theaters,  ranging  from  music-halls  in  small  towns  that 
booked  the  ten-twenty-thirty-cent  dramas  up  to  the 
palatial  houses  Hke  Hooley's  in  Chicago,  the  Hollis  in 
Boston,  and  the  Baldwin  in  San  Francisco. 

It  was  a  happy-go-lucky  time.  If  Frohman  had  ten 
dollars  in  his  pocket  to  spare  he  considered  himself  rich. 
Money  then,  as  always,  meant  very  little  to  him.  It 
came  and  went  easily. 

While  the  booking  business  waxed  in  volume  the  pro- 
duction end  of  the  establishment  did  not  fare  so  well. 
Charles  had  this  activity  of  the  office  as  his  particular 
domain,  and  with  the  instinct  of  the  plunger  now  began 
to  put  on  plays  right  and  left. 

Just  before  the  association  with  Randall,  Frohman 
had  become  manager  of  Neil  Burgess,  the  actor,  and 

103 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

had  booked  him  for  a  tour  in  a  play  called  ''Vim."  A 
disagreement  followed,  and  Frohman  turned  him  over 
to  George  W.  Lederer,  who  took  the  play  out  to  the  coast. 

A  year  after  this  episode  came  the  first  of  the  many 
opportunities  for  fortune  that  Charles  Frohman  turned 
down  in  the  course  of  his  eventful  life.  This  is  the  way 
it  happened: 

Burgess,  who  was  quite  an  inventive  person,  had  pat- 
ented the  treadmill  mechanism  to  represent  horse-racing 
on  the  stage,  a  device  which  was  afterward  used  with 
such  great  effect  in  "Ben-Hur."  He  was  so  much  im- 
pressed with  it  that  he  had  a  play  written  around  it 
called  "The  County  Fair." 

Burgess,  who  liked  Frohman  immensely,  tried  to  get 
him  to  take  charge  of  this  piece,  but  Frohman  would  not 
listen  to  the  proposition  about  the  mechanical  device. 
He  was  unhappy  over  his  experience  about  "Vim,"  and 
whenever  Burgess  tried  to  talk  "The  County  Fair" 
and  its  machine  Frohman  would  put  him  off. 

Burgess  finally  went  elsewhere,  and,  as  most  people 
know,  "The  County  Fair"  almost  rivaled  "The  Old 
Homestead"  in  money -making  ability.  The  horse- 
racing  scene  became  the  most-talked-of  episode  on  the 
stage  at  the  time,  and  Burgess  cleared  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  miUion  dollars  out  of  the  enterprise.  Charles 
Frohman  afterward  admitted  that  his  prejudice  against 
Burgess  and  his  machine  had  cost  his  office  at  least  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars. 

Frohman  and  Randall  now  launched  an  important 
venture.  McKee  Rankin,  who  was  one  of  the  best- 
known  players  of  the  time,  induced  them  to  become  his 
managers  in  a  piece  called  "The  Golden  Giant,"  by 

104 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

Clay  M.  Greene.  Charles,  however,  agreed  to  the  prop- 
osition on  the  condition  that  Rankin  would  put  his 
wife,  Kitty  Blanchard,  in  the  cast.  They  had  been 
estranged,  and  Frohman,  with  his  natural  shrewdness, 
believed  that  the  stage  reunion  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McKee 
Rankin  would  be  a  great  drawing-card  for  the  play. 
Rankin  made  the  arrangements,  and  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Theater  was  booked  for  two  weeks,  commencing  Easter 
Monday,  1886. 

The  theater  was  then  under  the  management  of  John 
Stetson,  of  Boston,  and  both  Frohman  and  Rankin 
looked  forward  to  doing  a  great  business.  In  this  cast 
Robert  Hilliard,  who  had  been  a  clever  amateur  actor 
in  Brooklyn,  made  his  first  professional  appearance. 
Charles  supervised  the  rehearsals  and  had  rosy  visions  of 
a  big  success.  At  four  o'clock,  however,  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  opening  night,  Charles  went  to  the  box-office  and 
discovered  the  advance  sale  had  been  only  one  hundred 
dollars. 

''I  tell  you  what  to  do,  Randall,"  quickly  thought  out 
Frohman,  *'if  Stetson  will  stand  for  it  we  will  paper  the 
house  to  the  doors.  We  must  open  to  a  capacity 
audience." 

When  Frohman  put  the  matter  before  Stetson  he  said 
he  did  not  believe  in  "second-hand  reconciliations,"  but 
assented  to  the  plan.  Frohman  gave  Randall  six  hun- 
dred seats,  and  the  latter  put  them  into  good  hands. 
The  premiere  of  ''The  Golden  Giant,"  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  took  place  before  a  crowded  and  paying  house. 
In  reality  there  was  exactly  two  hundred  and  eighty- 
eight  dollars  in  the  box-office.  Business  picked  up, 
however,  and  the  two  weeks'  engagement  proved  pros- 
perous. The  play  failed  on  the  road,  however,  and  the 
8  105 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Frohman  offices  lost  over  five  thousand  dollars  on  the 
venture.  Rankin  had  agreed  to  pay  Frohman  forty 
per  cent,  of  the  losses.  That  agreement  remained  in 
force  all  his  life,  for  it  was  never  paid. 

In  Charles's  next  venture  he  laimched  his  first  star. 
Curiously  enough,  the  star  was  Tony  Hart,  a  member 
of  the  famous  Irish  team  of  Harrigan  and  Hart,  who  had 
delighted  the  boyhood  of  Frohman  when  he  used  to  slip 
away  on  Saturday  nights  and  revel  in  a  show. 

Tony  Hart,  during  the  interim,  had  separated  from 
Harrigan,  and  in  some  way  Charles  obtained  the  manu- 
script of  a  farce-comedy  by  William  Gill  called  "A  Toy 
Pistol." 

Charles  had  never  lost  his  admiration  for  Hart,  and 
when  he  saw  that  the  leading  character  had  to  imper- 
sonate an  Italian,  a  young  Hebrew,  an  Irishwoman, 
and  a  Chinaman,  Frohman  said,  **Tony  Hart  is  the  very 
person.'* 

Accordingly,  he  engaged  Hart  and  a  company  which 
included  J.  B.  Mackey,  F.  R.  Jackson,  T.  J.  Cronin, 
D.  G.  Longworth,  Annie  Adams,  Annie  AUiston,  Mattie 
Ferguson,  Bertie  Amberg,  Eva  Grenville,  Vera  Wilson, 
Minnie  Williams,  and  Lena  Merville. 

This  production  had  an  influence  on  Charles  Froh- 
man's  life  far  greater  than  the  association  with  his  first 
star,  for  Annie  Adams  now  began  a  more  or  less  con- 
tinuous connection  with  Charles  Frohman 's  companies. 
Her  daughter,  the  little  girl  whom  Charles  had  met 
casually  years  before,  was  now  about  to  make  her  first 
New  York  appearance  as  member  of  a  traveling  company 
in  "The  Paymaster."  Already  the  energetic  mother 
was  importuning  Charles  to  engage  the  daughter.  His 
answer  was,  '^I'll  give  her  a  chance  as  soon  as  I  can." 

1 06 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

He  little  dreamed  that  this  wisp  of  a  girl  was  to  be- 
come in  later  years  his  most  profitable  and  best-known 
star. 

Charles  was,  of  course,  keenly  interested  in  ''A  Toy 
Pistol."  He  conducted  the  rehearsals,  and  on  February 
20,  1886,  produced  it  at  what  was  then  called  the  New 
York  Comedy  Theater.  It  failed,  however.  The  New 
York  Comedy  Theater  was  originally  a  large  billiard- 
hall  in  the  Gilsey  Building,  on  Broadway  between 
Twenty-eighth  and  Twenty-ninth  streets,  and  had  been 
first  named  the  San  Francisco  Minstrel  Hall.  It  became 
successively  Haverly's  Comedy  Theater  and  the  New 
York  Comedy  Theater.  Subsequently,  it  was  known  as 
Hermann's  Theater,  and  was  the  scene  of  many  of  the 
earlier  Charles  Frohman  productions. 

Charles  now  became  immersed  in  productions.  About 
this  time  Archibald  Clavering  Gunter,  who  had  scored 
a  sensational  success  with  his  books,  especially  **Mr. 
Barnes  of  New  York,"  had  written  a  play  called  "A 
Wall  Street  Bandit,"  which  had  been  produced  with 
great  success  in  San  Francisco.  Frohman  booked  it  for 
four  weeks  at  the  old  Standard  Theater,  afterward  the 
Manhattan,  on  a  very  generous  royalty  basis,  and 
plunged  in  his  usual  lavish  style.  He  got  together  a 
magnificent  cast,  which  included  Georgia  Cayvan,  W.  J. 
Ferguson,  Robert  McWade,  Charles  Bowser,  Charles 
Wheatleigh,  and  Sadie  Bigelow.  The  play  opened  to 
capacity  and  the  indications  were  that  the  engagement 
would  be  a  success;  but  it  suddenly  fizzled  out.  On 
Sunday  morning,  when  Charles  read  the  papers  with  their 
reviews  of  the  week,  he  said  to  Randall,  with  his  usual 
philosophy : 

107 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

''We've  got  a  magnificent  frost,  but  it  was  worth 
doing." 

This  production  cost  the  youthful  manager  ten 
thousand  dollars. 

Frohman  still  had  control  of  ''time"  at  the  Standard, 
so  he  now  put  on  a  play,  translated  by  Henri  Rochefort, 
called  "A  Daughter  of  Ireland,"  in  which  Georgia 
Cayvan  had  the  title  role.  Here  he  scored  another 
failure,  but  his  ardor  remained  undampened  and  he 
went  on  to  what  looked  at  that  moment  to  be  the  biggest 
thing  he  had  yet  tried. 

Dion  Boucicault  was  one  of  the  great  stage  figures  of 
his  period.  He  was  both  actor  and  author,  and  wrote  or 
adapted  several  hundred  plays,  including  such  phenom- 
enal successes  as  "Colleen  Bawn,"  "Shaughraun,"  which 
ran  for  a  year  simultaneously  in  London,  New  York,  and 
Melbourne,  and  ' '  London  Assurance. ' '  There  was  much 
talk  of  his  latest  comedy,  "The  Jilt."  Frohman,  who 
always  wanted  to  be  associated  with  big  names,  now 
arranged  by  cable  to  produce  this  play  at  the  Standard. 
Once  more  he  plunged  on  an  expensive  company  which 
included,  among  others,  Fritz  Williams,  Louise  Thorn- 
dyke,  and  Helen  Bancroft. 

For  four  weeks  he  cleared  a  thousand  a  week.  Then 
he  put  the  company  on  the  road,  where  it  did  absolutely 
nothing.  Charles,  who  had  an  uncanny  sense  of  analysis 
of  play  failures,  now  declared  that  the  reason  for  the 
failure  was  that  theater-goers  resented  Boucicault 's 
treatment  of  his  first  wife,  Agnes  Robertson.  Bouci- 
cault had  declared  that  he  was  not  the  father  of  her  child, 
and  when  she  sued  him  in  England  the  courts  gave  her 
the  verdict.     Meanwhile  Boucicault  married,  and  in  the 

1 08 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

eyes  of  the  world  he  was  a  bigamist.  This  experience, 
it  is  interesting  to  add,  taught  Charles  Frohman  never 
to  engage  stars  on  whom  there  was  the  slightest  smirch 
of  scandal  or  disrepute. 

At  Montreal  Boucicault  refused  to  continue  the  tour, 
and  this  engagement,  like  so  many  of  its  predecessors, 
left  Charles  in  a  financial  hole.  Despite  all  these  re- 
verses he  was  able  to  make  a  livelihood  out  of  the  book- 
ing end  of  the  office,  which  thrived  and  grew  with  each 
month.  Nor  was  he  without  his  sense  of  humor  in  those 
days. 

One  day  he  met  a  certain  manager  who  had  lost  a 
great  deal  of  money  in  comic  opera.  Frohman  said  to 
him  that  he  heard  that  there  was  much  money  in  the 
comic-opera  end  of  the  business. 

"So  there  is,"  replied  the  manager. 

"You  ought  to  know,"  responded  Frohman,  "for  you 
have  put  enough  into  it." 

This  remark,  often  attributed  to  others,  is  said  to  have 
originated  here. 

Frohman  was  now  an  established  producer,  and 
although  the  tide  of  fortune  had  not  gone  altogether 
happily  with  him,  he  had  a  Micawber-like  conviction 
that  the  big  thing  would  eventually  turn  up.  Now  came 
his  first  contact  with  Bronson  Howard,  who,  a  few  years 
later,  was  to  be  the  first  mile-stone  in  his  journey  to 
fame  and  fortune. 

Howard's  name  was  one  to  conjure  with.  He  had  pro- 
duced "Young  Mrs.  Winthrop,"  "The  Banker's  Daugh- 
ter," "Saratoga,"  and  other  great  successes.  Charles 
Frohman,  yielding,  as  usual,  to  the  lure  of  big  names, 
now   put   on   Howard's   play,    "Baron   Rudolph,"   for 

109 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

which  George  Knight  had  paid  the  author  three  thousand 
dollars  to  rewrite.  Knight  gave  Frohman  a  free  hand  in 
the  matter  of  casting  the  production,  and  it  was  put  on  at 
the  Fourteenth  Street  Theater  in  an  elaborate  fashion. 
The  company  included  various  people  who  later  on  were 
to  become  widely  known.  Among  them  were  George 
Knight  and  his  wife,  George  Fawcett,  Charles  Bowser,  and 
a  very  prepossessing  young  man  named  Henry  Woodruff. 

"Baron  Rudolph"  proved  to  be  a  failure,  and  it  broke 
Knight's  heart,  for  shortly  afterward  he  was  committed 
to  an  insane  asylum  from  which  he  never  emerged  alive. 
It  was  found  that  while  the  play  was  well  written  there 
was  no  sympathy  for  a  ragged  tramp. 

Whether  he  thought  it  would  change  his  luck  or  not, 
Charles  now  turned  to  a  different  sort  of  enterprise. 
He  had  read  in  the  newspapers  about  the  astonishing 
mind-reading  feats  in  England  of  Washington  Irving 
Bishop.  Always  on  the  lookout  for  something  novel,  he 
started  a  correspondence  with  Bishop  which  ended  in  a 
contract  by  which  he  agreed  to  present  Bishop  in  the 
United  States  in  1887. 

Bishop  came  over  and  Frohman  sponsored  his  first 
appearance  in  New  York  on  February  27,  1887,  at 
Wallack's  Theater.  With  his  genius  for  publicity, 
Frohman  got  an  extraordinary  amount  of  advertising 
out  of  this  engagement.  Among  other  things  he  got 
Bishop  to  drive  around  New  York  blindfolded.  He 
invited  well-known  men  to  come  and  witness  his  mar- 
velous gift  in  private.  All  of  which  attracted  a  great 
deal  of  attention,  but  very  little  money  to  the  box- 
office.  Frohman  and  Bishop  differed  about  the  conduct 
of  the  tour  that  was  to  follow,  and  M.  B.  Leavitt  assumed 
the  management. 

no 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

While  at  12 15  Broadway  Charles  Frohman  estab- 
lished another  of  his  many  innovations  by  getting  out 
what  was  probably  the  first  stylographic  press  sheet. 
This  sheet,  which  contained  news  of  the  various  attrac- 
tions that  Frohman  booked,  was  sent  to  the  leading 
newspapers  throughout  the  country  and  was  the  fore- 
runner of  the  avalanche  of  press  matter  that  to-day  is 
hurled  at  dramatic  editors  everywhere. 

The  booking  business  had  now  grown  so  extensively 
that  the  office  force  was  increased.  First  came  Julius 
Cahn,  who  assisted  Randall  with  the  booking.  Al 
Hay  man  took  a  desk  in  Frohman 's  office,  which,  because 
of  Hayman's  extensive  California  enterprises,  had  a 
virtual  monopoly  on  all  Western  booking. 

Now  developed  a  curious  episode.  Charles,  with  his 
devotion  to  big  names,  used  the  words  ''Daly's  Theater 
Building"  on  his  letter-heads.  This  so  infuriated  Daly 
that  he  sent  a  peremptory  message  to  the  landlord  in- 
sisting that  Frohman  vacate  the  building.  Frohman 
and  Randall  thereupon  moved  their  offices  up  the  block 
to  1267  Broadway. 

Charles  Frohman  made  every  possible  capitalization 
of  this  change.  Among  other  things  he  issued  a  broad- 
side, announcing  the  removal  to  new  offices,  and  making 
the  following  characteristic  statement : 

Our  agency,  we  are  pleased  to  state ^  has  been 
an  estabhshed  success  from  the  very  start.  We 
now  represent  every  important  theater  in  the 
United  States  and  Canada ,  as  an  inspection  of 
our  list  will  show,  and  we  will  always  keep  up 
the  high  standard  of  attractions  that  have  been 
III 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

hooked  through  this  office,  and  we  want  the  busi- 
ness oj  no  others.  Mr.  E.  E.  Rice,  the  well-known 
manager  and  author,  will  have  adjoining  offices 
with  us,  and  his  attractions  will  he  hooked  through 
our  offices.  We  transact  a  general  theatrical 
business  {excepting  that  pertaining  to  a  dramatic 
or  actor's  agency),  and  are  in  competition  with 
no  other  exchange,  hooking  agency,  or  dramatic 
concern.  Neither  do  we  have  any  desk-room  to 
let,  reserving  all  the  space  of  our  office  for  our 
own  use. 

Attached  to  this  announcement  was  a  Hst  of  theaters 
that  he  represented,  which  was  a  foot  long.  He  was 
also  representing  Archibald  Clavering  Gunter,  who  had 
followed  up  "A  Wall  Street  Bandit"  with  'Trince 
Karl,"  and  Robert  Buchanan,  author  of  ''Lady  Clare" 
and  "Alone  in  London." 

Frohman  and  Randall  stayed  at  1267  Broadway  for  a 
year.  Shortly  before  the  next  change  Randall,  who  had 
become  extensively  interested  in  outside  enterprises, 
retired  from  the  firm.  His  successor  as  close  associate 
with  Charles  Frohman  was  Harry  Rockwood,  ablest  of 
the  early  Frohman  lieutenants. 

Rockwood  was  a  distinguished-looking  man  and  a 
tireless  worker.  The  way  he  came  to  be  associated  with 
Charles  Frohman  was  interesting.  His  real  name  was 
H.  Rockwood  Hewitt,  and  he  was  related  to  ex-Mayor 
Abram  S.  Hewitt  of  New  York.  He  had  had  some 
experience  in  Wall  Street,  but  became  infected  with  the 
theatrical  virus. 

One  day  in  1888  a  well-groomed  young  man  ap- 
proached Gustave  Frohman  at  the  Fourteenth  Street 

112 


BOOKING-AGENT;    PRODUCER 

Theater.  He  introduced  himself  as  Harry  Hewitt.  He 
said  to  Frohman: 

"My  name  is  Hewitt.  I  would  like  to  get  into  the 
theatrical  business." 

Gustave  invited  him  to  come  around  to  the  Madison 
Square  Theater  the  next  day,  and  asked  him  what  he 
would  like  to  do. 

"Oh,  I  should  like  to  do  anything." 

Frohman  then  gave  him  an  imaginary  house  to  "count 
up." 

Rockwood,  who  was  an  expert  accountant,  did  the 
job  with  amazing  swiftness.  Whereupon  Gustave  Froh- 
man telephoned  to  Charles  Frohman  as  follows: 

"I've  got  the  greatest  treasurer  in  the  world  for  you. 
Send  for  him." 

Charles  engaged  him  for  a  Madison  Square  Company, 
and  in  this  way  Rockwood 's  theatrical  career  started. 
It  was  the  fashion  of  many  people  of  that  time  interested 
in  the  theatrical  business  to  change  their  names,  so  he 
became  Harry  Rockwood.  In  the  same  way  Harry 
Hayman,  brother  of  Al  and  Alf  Hay  man,  changed  his 
name  to  Harry  Mann. 

In  1889  came  the  separation  between  Randall  and 
Frohman.  Randall  set  up  an  establishment  of  his  own 
at  1 145  Broadway,  while  Charles,  who  was  now  an 
accredited  and  established  personage  in  the  theatrical 
world,  took  a  suite  at  1127  Broadway,  adjoining  the 
old  St.  James  Hotel.  In  making  this  change  he  reached 
a  crucial  point  in  his  career,  for  in  these  offices  he  con- 
ceived and  put  into  execution  the  spectacular  enter- 
prises that  linked  his  name  for  the  first  time  with 
brilliant  success. 


VI 

''SHENANDOAH**    AND   THE    FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

T Jf  T'YYl^  his  installation  in  the  new  offices  at  1 1 2  7 
m^m/  Broadway  there  began  an  important  epoch  in  the 
life  of  Charles  Frohman.  The  Nemesis  which  had 
seemed  to  pursue  his  productions  now  took  flight.  The 
plump  little  man,  not  yet  thirty,  who  had  already  lived 
a  lifetime  of  strenuous  and  varied  endeavor,  sat  at  a 
desk  in  a  big  room  on  the  second  floor,  dreaming  and 
planning  great  things  that  were  soon  to  be  realized. 

Although  staggering  under  a  burden  of  debt  that 
would  have  discouraged  most  people,  Frohman,  with 
his  optimistic  philosophy,  felt  that  the  hour  had  come 
at  last  when  the  tide  would  turn.  And  it  did.  At  this 
time  his  financial  complications  were  at  their  worst. 
Some  of  them  dated  back  to  the  disastrous  Wallack 
Company  tour;  others  resulted  from  his  impulsive 
generosity  in  indorsing  his  friends'  notes.  He  was  so 
involved  that  he  could  not  do  business  under  his  own 
name,  and  for  a  period  the  firm  went  on  as  Al  Hay  man 
&  Company. 

One  of  the  very  first  enterprises  in  the  new  offices 
cemented  the  friendship  of  Charles  Frohman  and 
William  Gillette.  While  at  the  Madison  Square  Theater 
he  had  booked  Gillette's  plays,  ''The  Professor"  and 
"The  Private  Secretary."  Frohman,  with  Al  Hayman 
as  partner,  induced  Gillette  to  make  a  dramatization  of 

114 


WILLIAM  GILLETTE 


FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

Rider  Haggard's  *'She/'  which  was  put  on  at  Niblo's 
Garden  in  New  York  with  considerable  success.  Wilton 
Lackaye  and  Loie  Fuller  were  in  the  cast. 

Gillette  now  tried  his  hand  at  a  war  play  called 
"Held  by  the  Enemy,"  which  Frohman  booked  on  the 
road.  Frohman  was  strangely  interested  in  "Held  by 
the  Enemy."  It  had  all  the  thrill  and  tumult  of  war 
and  it  lent  itself  to  more  or  less  spectacular  production. 
When  the  road  tour  ended,  Frohman,  on  his  own  hook, 
took  the  piece  and  the  company,  which  was  headed  by 
Gillette,  for  an  engagement  at  the  Baldwin  Theater  in 
San  Francisco.  He  transported  all  the  original  scenery, 
which  included,  among  other  things,  some  massive 
wooden  cannon. 

The  San  Francisco  critics,  however,  slated  the  piece 
unmercifully.  The  morning  after  the  opening  Gillette 
stood  in  the  lobby  of  the  Palace  Hotel  with  the  news- 
papers in  his  hand  and  feeling  very  disconsolate.  Up 
bustled  Frohman  in  his  usual  cheery  fashion. 

"Look  what  the  critics  have  done  to  us,"  said  Gillette, 
gloomily. 

"But  we've  got  all  the  best  of  it,"  replied  Frohman, 
with  animation. 

"How's  that?"  asked  Gillette,  somewhat  puzzled. 

''They've  got  to  stay  here." 

This  little  episode  shows  the  buoyant  way  in  which 
Frohman  always  met  misfortune.  His  irresistible  hu- 
mor was  the  oil  that  he  invariably  spread  upon  the 
troubled  waters  of  discord  and  discouragement. 

It  was  while  selecting  one  of  the  casts  of  "Held  by 
the  Enemy,"  which  was  revived  many  times,  that 
Charles  Frohman  made  two  more  lifelong  connections. 

At  the  same  boarding-house  with  Julius  Cahn  lived 

115 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

an  ambitious  young  man  who  had  had  some  experience 
as  an  actor.  He  was  out  of  a  position,  so  Cahn  said  to 
him  one  day: 

**Come  over  to  our  offices  and  Charles  Frohman  will 
give  you  a  job." 

The  young  man  came  over,  and  Cahn  introduced  him 
to  Frohman.  Soon  he  came  out,  apparently  very 
indignant.  When  Cahn  asked  him  what  was  the  matter 
he  said: 

"That  man  Frohman  offered  me  the  part  of  a  nigger, 
Uncle  Rufus,  in  that  play.  I  was  born  in  the  South,  and 
I  will  not  play  a  nigger.     I  would  rather  starve." 

Cahn  said,  "You  will  play  it,  and  your  salary  will  be 
forty  dollars  a  week." 

The  young  man  reluctantly  accepted  the  engagement 
and  proved  to  be  not  only  a  satisfactory  actor,  but  a  man 
gifted  with  a  marvelous  instinct  as  stage-director.  His 
name  was  Joseph  Humphreys,  and  he  became  in  a  few 
years  the  general  stage-director  for  Charles  Frohman, 
the  most  distinguished  position  of  its  kind  in  the  country, 
which  he  held  until  his  death. 

About  this  time  Charles  Frohman  renewed  his  ac- 
quaintance with  Augustus  Thomas.  Thomas  walked 
into  the  office  one  day  and  Rockwood  said  to  him: 

"You  are  the  very  man  we  want  to  play  in  'Held 
by  the  Enemy.'" 

Thomas  immediately  went  in  to  see  Frohman,  who 
offered  him  the  position  of  General  Stamburg,  but 
Thomas  had  an  engagement  in  his  own  play,  "The 
Burglar,"  which  was  the  expanded  "Editha's  Burglar," 
and  could  not  accept.  Before  he  left,  however,  Frohman, 
whose  mind  was  always  full  of  projects  for  the  future, 
renewed  the  offer  made  in  New  Orleans,  for  he  said : 

ii6 


FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

"Thomas,  I  still  want  you  to  write  that  play  for  me." 

With  ''Held  by  the  Enemy"  Charies  Frohman  seemed 
to  have  found  a  magic  touchstone.  It  was  both  pa- 
triotic and  profitable,  for  it  was  nothing  less  than  the 
American  flag.  Having  raised  it  in  one  production,  he 
now  turned  to  the  enterprise  which  unfurled  his  success 
to  the  winds  in  brilliant  and  stirring  fashion. 

Early  in  1889  R.  M.  Field  put  on  a  new  military  play 
called  "Shenandoah,"  by  Bronson  Howard,  at  the  Bos- 
ton Museum.  Howard  was  then  the  most  important 
writer  in  the  dramatic  profession.  He  had  three  big 
successes,  "Young  Mrs.  Winthrop,"  "Saratoga,"  and 
"The  Banker's  Daughter,"  to  his  credit,  and  he  had  put 
an  immense  amount  of  work  and  hope  into  the  stirring 
mihtary  drama  that  was  to  have  such  an  important 
bearing  on  the  career  of  Charles  Frohman.  The  story 
of  Frohman's  connection  with  this  play  is  one  of  the 
most  picturesque  and  romantic  in  the  whole  history  of 
modern  theatrical  successes.  He  found  it  a  Cinderella 
of  the  stage;   he  proved  to  be  its  Prince  Charming. 

Oddly  enough,  "Shenandoah"  was  a  failure  in  Boston. 
Three  eminent  managers,  A.  M.  Palmer,  T.  Henry 
French,  and  Henry  E.  Abbey,  in  succession  had  had 
options  on  the  play,  and  they  were  a  unit  in  believing 
that  it  would  not  go. 

Daniel  Frohman  had  seen  the  piece  at  Boston  with  a 
view  to  considering  it  for  the  Lyceum.  He  told  his 
brother  Charles  of  the  play,  and  advised  him  to  go  up 
and  see  it,  adding  that  it  was  too  big  and  melodramatic 
for  the  somewhat  intimate  scope  of  the  small  Lyceum 
stage. 

So  Charles  went  to  Boston.     On  the  day  of  the  night 

117 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

on  which  he  started  he  met  Joseph  Brooks  on  Broadway 
and  told  him  he  was  going  to  Boston  to  try  to  get 
"Shenandoah." 

"Why,  Charley,  you  a: a  crazy!  It  is  a  failure!  Why 
throw  away  your  money  on  it?     Nobody  wants  it." 

"I  may  be  crazy,"  replied  Frohman,  "but  I  am  going 
to  try  my  best  to  get  'Shenandoah.'" 

Before  going  to  Boston  he  arranged  with  Al  Hay  man  to 
take  a  half-interest  in  the  play.  When  he  reached 
Boston  he  went  out  to  the  house  of  Isaac  B.  Rich,  who 
was  then  associated  with  William  Harris  in  the  conduct 
of  the  Howard  Athenaeum  and  the  Hollis  Street  Theater. 
Rich  was  a  character  in  his  way.  He  had  been  a  printer 
in  Bangor,  Maine,  had  sold  tickets  in  a  New  Orleans 
theater,  and  had  already  amassed  a  fortune  in  his 
Boston  enterprises.  He  was  an  ardent  spiritualist,  and 
financed  and  gave  much  time  to  a  spiritualistic  publica- 
tion of  Boston  called  The  Banner  of  Light.  One  of  his 
theatrical  associates  at  that  time,  John  Stetson,  owned 
The  Police  Gazette. 

Rich  conceived  a  great  admiration  for  Frohman, 
whom  he  had  met  with  Harris  in  booking  plays  for  his 
Boston  houses.  He  always  maintained  that  Frohman 
was  the  counterpart  of  Napoleon,  and  called  him 
Napoleon. 

On  this  memorable  day  in  Boston  Frohman  dined  with 
Rich  at  his  house  and  took  him  to  see  "Shenandoah." 
When  it  was  over  Frohman  asked  him  what  he  thought 
of  it. 

"I'll  take  any  part  of  it  that  you  say,"  replied  Rich. 

"If  I  were  alone,"  answered  Frohman,  "I  would  take 
you  in,  but  I  have  already  given  Al  Hayman  half  of  it." 

Frohman  was  very  much  impressed  with  "Shenan- 

ii8 


FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

doah,"  although  he  did  not  believe  the  play  was  yet  in 
shape  for  success.  After  the  performance  he  asked 
Mr.  Field  if  he  could  get  the  rights.     Field  replied: 

''Abbey,  French,  and  Palmer  have  options  on  it. 
If  they  don't  want  it  you  can  have  it." 

Frohman  returned  to-New  York  the  next  day,  and  even 
before  he  had  seen  Bronson  Howard  he  looked  up  his 
friend  Charles  Bumham,  then  manager  of  the  Star 
Theater,  and  asked  him  to  save  him  some  time. 

Frohman  now  went  to  see  Howard,  who  then  lived 
at  Stamford.  He  expressed  his  great  desire  for  the 
play  and  then  went  on  to  say: 

''You  are  a  very  great  dramatist,  Mr.  Howard,  and 
I  am  only  a  theatrical  manager,  but  I  think  I  can  see 
where  a  possible  improvement  might  be  made  in  the 
play.  For  one  thing,  I  think  two  acts  should  be  merged 
into  one,  and  I  don't  think  you  have  made  enough  out 
of  Sheridan's  ride." 

When  he  had  finished,  Howard  spoke  up  warmly  and 
said,  "Mr.  Frohman,  you  are  right,  and  I  shall  be  very 
glad  to  adopt  your  suggestions." 

The  very  changes  that  Howard  made  in  the  play  were 
the  ones  that  helped  to  make  it  a  great  success,  as  he 
was  afterward  frank  enough  to  admit. 

Frohman  now  made  a  contract  for  the  play  and  went 
to  Burnham  to  book  time.  Bumham,  meanwhile,  had 
been  to  Boston  to  see  the  play,  and  he  said: 

"I  saved  six  weeks  for  you  at  the  Star  for  'Shenan- 
doah.'" 

From  the  very  beginning  of  his  association  with 
"Shenandoah"  Charles  Frohman  had  an  instinct  that 
the  play  would  be  a  success.  He  now  dedicated  him- 
self to  its  production  with  characteristic  energy. 

119 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Scarcely  had  he  signed  the  contract  for  ''Shenan- 
doah" than  occurred  one  of  the  many  curious  pranks  of 
fate  that  were  associated  with  this  enterprise.  Al  Hay- 
man,  who  had  a  half-interest  in  the  piece,  was  stricken 
with  typhoid  fever  in  Chicago  on  his  way  to  the  coast. 
He  thought  he  was  going  to  die,  and,  not  having  an 
extraordinary  amount  of  confidence  in  "Shenandoah," 
he  sold  half  of  his  half -interest  to  R.  M.  Hooley,  who 
owned  theaters  bearing  his  name  in  Chicago  and 
Brooklyn. 

With  his  usual  determination  to  do  things  in  splendid 
fashion,  Frohman  engaged  a  magnificent  cast.  Now 
came  one  of  the  many  evidences  of  the  integrity  of  his 
word.  Years  before,  when  he  had  first  seen  Henry 
Miller  act  in  San  Francisco  he  said  to  him: 

''When  I  get  a  theater  in  New  York  and  have  a  big 
Broadway  production  you  will  be  my  leading  man." 

He  had  not  yet  acquired  the  theater,  but  he  did  have 
the  big  Broadway  production,  so  the  first  male  charac- 
ter that  he  filled  was  that  of  Colonel  West,  and  he  did  it 
with  Miller. 

This  cast  included  not  less  than  half  a  dozen  people 
who  were  then  making  their  way  toward  future  stardom. 
He  engaged  Wilton  Lackaye  to  play  General  Haverill; 
Viola  Allen  played  Gertrude  Ellingham;  Nanette  Com- 
stock  was  the  original  Madeline  West;  Effie  Shannon 
portrayed  Jennie  Buckthorn;  while  Dorothy  Dorr 
played  Mrs,  Haverill.  Other  actors  in  the  company 
who  later  became  widely  known  were  John  E.  Kellard, 
Harry  HarwoQd,  Morton  Selten,  and  Harry  Thorn. 

Charles  determined  that  the  public  should  not  lose 
sight  of  ' '  Shenandoah. ' '  All  his  genius  for  publicity  was 
concentrated  to  this  end.     Among  the  ingenious  agencies 

I20 


FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

that  he  created  for  arousing  suspense  and  interest  was 
a  rumor  that  the  manuscript  of  the  third  act  had  been 
lost.  He  put  forth  the  news  that  Mr.  Howard's  copy 
was  mislaid,  and  a  city- wide  search  was  instituted.  All 
the  while  that  the  company  was  rehearsing  the  other 
acts  the  anxiety  about  the  missing  act  grew.  A  week 
before  the  production  Frohman  announced,  with  great 
effect,  that  the  missing  manuscript  had  been  found. 

When  the  doors  of  the  Star  Theater  were  opened  on 
the  evening  of  September  9,  1889,  for  the  first  per- 
formance of  ''Shenandoah,"  the  outlook  was  not  very 
auspicious.  Rain  poured  in  torrents.  It  was  almost 
impossible  to  get  a  cab.  Al  Hayman,  one  of  the  owners 
of  the  play,  who  lived  at  the  Hotel  Majestic,  on  West 
Seventy-second  Street,  was  rainbound  and  could  not 
even  see  the  premiere  of  the  piece. 

However,  a  good  audience  swam  through  the  deluge, 
for  the  gross  receipts  of  this  opening  night,  despite  the 
inclement  conditions  outside,  were  nine  hundred  and 
seventy- two  dollars.  This  was  considered  a  very  good 
house  at  the  standard  prices  of  the  day,  which  ranged 
from  twenty-five  cents  to  one  dollar  and  a  half. 

The  play  was  an  immense  success,  for  at  no  time  dur- 
ing the  rest  of  the  engagement  did  the  receipts  at  any 
performance  go  below  one  thousand  dollars.  The 
average  gross  receipts  for  each  week  were  ten  thousand 
dollars. 

Charles  Frohman  watched  the  premiere  from  the  rear 
of  the  house  with  a  beating  heart.  The  crash  of  ap- 
plause after  the  first  act  made  him  feel  that  he  had 
scored  at  last.  After  the  sensational  ending  of  the 
third  act,  which  was  Sheridan's  famous  ride,  he  rushed 
back  to  the  stage,  shook  Henry  Miller  warmly  by  the 
9  121 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

hand,  and  said:  "Henry,  we've  got  it.  The  horse  is 
yours!" 

He  meant  the  horse  that  the  general  rode  in  the  play. 

This  horse,  by  the  way,  was  named  Black  Bess.  It 
got  so  accustomed  to  its  cue  that  it  knew  when  it  had 
to  gallop  across  the  stage.  One  night  during  the  third 
act  this  cue  was  given  as  usual.  Its  rider,  however,  was 
not  ready,  and  the  horse  galloped  riderless  across  the 
stage. 

"Shenandoah"  led  to  a  picturesque  friendship  in 
Charles  Frohman's  Hfe.  On  the  opening  night  a  grizzled, 
military-looking  man  sat  in  the  audience.  He  watched 
the  play  with  intense  interest  and  applauded  vigor- 
ously. On  the  way  out  he  met  a  friend  in  the  lobby. 
He  stopped  him  and  said,  "This  is  the  most  interesting 
war  play  I  have  ever  seen." 

The  friend  knew  Charles  Frohman,  who  was  standing 
with  smiling  face  watching  the  crowd  go  out.  He 
called  the  little  manager  over  and  said :  "Mr.  Frohman, 
I  want  you  to  meet  a  man  who  really  knows  something 
about  the  Civil  War.  This  is  General  WilHam  T. 
Sherman." 

Sherman  and  Frohman  became  great  friends,  and 
throughout  the  engagement  of  "Shenandoah"  the  old 
soldier  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  theater.  He  then 
lived  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  and  often  he  brought 
over  his  war-time  comrades. 

Not  only  did  "Shenandoah"  mark  the  epoch  of  the 
first  real  success  in  Frohman 's  life,  but  it  raised  his 
whole  standard  of  living,  as  the  following  incident  will 
show. 

When  "Shenandoah"  opened,  Frohman  and  Henry 
Miller,  and  sometimes  other  members  of  the  company, 

122 


FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

went  around  to  0' Neil's  on  Sixth  Avenue,  scene  of  the 
old  foregatherings  with  Belasco,  and  had  supper.  As 
the  piece  grew  in  prosperity  and  success,  the  supper 
party  gradually  moved  up-town  to  more  expensive 
restaurants,  until  finally  they  were  supping  at  Del- 
monico's.  "We  are  going  up  in  the  world,"  said  Froh- 
man,  with  his  usual  humor.  At  their  first  suppers  they 
smoked  ten-cent  cigars;  now  they  regaled  themselves 
with  twenty-five-cent  Perfectos. 

Unfortunately  the  successful  run  of  "Shenandoah" 
at  the  Star  had  to  be  terminated  on  October  12  th  because 
the  Jefferson  &  Florence  Company,  which  had  a  pre- 
vious contract  with  the  theater  and  could  not  be  dis- 
posed of  elsewhere,  came  to  play  their  annual  engage- 
ment in  "The  Rivals."  Frohman  transferred  the  play 
to  Proctor's  Twenty-third  Street  Theater,  which  was 
from  this  time  on  to  figure  extensively  in  his  fortunes, 
and  the  successful  run  of  the  play  continued  there. 
Wilton  Lackaye  retired  from  the  cast  and  was  succeeded 
by  Frank  Burbeck,  whose  wife,  Nanette  Comstock, 
succeeded  Miss  Shannon  in  the  role  of  Jenny  Buckthorn. 

Frohman  was  now  able  to  capitalize  his  brilliant  road- 
company  experience.  The  success  of  the  play  now  as- 
sured, he  immediately  organized  a  road  company,  in 
which  appeared  such  prominent  actors  as  Joseph  Hol- 
land, Frank  Carlyle,  and  Percy  Haswell.  He  estab- 
lished an  innovation  on  October  26th  by  having  this 
company  come  over  from  Philadelphia,  where  it  was 
playing,  to  act  in  the  New  York  house. 

The  two-hundred-and-fif tieth  performance  occurred  on 
April  19,  1890,  when  the  run  ended.  It  was  a  memorable 
night.  Katherine  Grey  and  Odette  Tyler  meanwhile 
had  joined  the  company.     The  theater  was  draped  in 

123 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

flags,  and  General  Sherman  made  a  speech  in  which  he 
praised  the  accuracy  of  the  production. 

With  his  usual  enterprise  and  resource,  Charles 
Frohman  introduced  a  distinct  novelty  on  this  occasion. 
He  had  double  and  triple  relays  of  characters  for  the 
farewell  performance.  Both  Lilla  Vane  and  Odette 
Tyler,  for  example,  acted  the  part  of  Gertrude  Ellingham; 
Wilton  Lackaye,  Frank  Burbeck,  and  George  Osborne 
played  General  Haverill;  Alice  Haines  and  Nanette  Com- 
stock  did  Jenny  Buckthorn;  while  Morton  Selten  and 
R.  A.  Roberts  doubled  as  Captain  Heartsease. 

Frohman  now  put  the  original  "Shenandoah"  com- 
pany on  the  road.  Its  first  engagement  was  at  Mc- 
Vicker's  Theater  in  Chicago.  Frohman  went  along 
and  took  Bronson  Howard  with  him. 

Most  of  the  Chicago  critics  liked  ''Shenandoah." 
But  there  was  one  exception,  a  brilliant  Irishman  on 
The  Tribune.  Paul  Potter,  whose  play,  ' '  The  City 
Directory,"  was  about  to  be  produced  in  Chicago,  was  a 
close  friend  of  Howard.  He  wanted  to  do  something  for 
the  Howard  play,  so  he  got  permission  from  Robert  W. 
Patterson,  editor  in  chief  of  The  Tribune,  to  write  a  Sun- 
day page  article  about  "Shenandoah."  Frohman  was 
immensely  pleased,  and  through  this  he  met  Potter,  who 
became  one  of  his  intimates. 

Then  came  the  opening  of  Potter's  play  at  the  Chicago 
Opera  House.  Although  Potter  knew  most  of  the  critics, 
there  was  a  feeling  that  they  would  forget  all  friendship 
and  do  their  worst.  Five  minutes  after  the  curtain  went 
up  the  piece  seemed  doomed. 

But  an  extraordinary  thing  happened.  From  a  stage 
box  suddenly  came  sounds  of  uncontrollable  mirth. 
The  audience,  and  especially  the  critics,  looked  to  see 

124 


FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

who  was  enjoying  the  play  so  strenuously,  and  they  beheld 
Charles  Frohman  and  Bronson  Howard.  The  critics 
were  puzzled.  Here  was  a  great  playwright  in  the 
flush  of  an  enormous  success  and  a  rising  young  manager 
evidently  enjoying  the  performance.  The  mentors  of 
public  taste  were  so  impressed  that  they  praised  the 
farce  and  started  "The  City  Directory"  on  a  career  of 
remarkable  success.  Frohman  and  Howard  were  re- 
paying the  good  turn  that  Potter  had  done  for  * '  Shenan- 
doah." 

Charles  Frohman  now  had  a  money-making  success. 
''Shenandoah"  was  the  dramatic  talk  of  the  whole 
country ;  it  did  big  business  everywhere,  and  its  coura- 
geous young  producer  came  in  for  praise  and  congratu- 
lation on  all  sides. 

The  manager  might  well  have  netted  what  was  in 
those  days  a  huge  fortune  out  of  this  enterprise,  but  his 
unswerving  sense  of  honor  led  him  to  immediately  dis- 
charge all  his  obligations.  He  wiped  out  the  Wallack's 
tour  debts,  and  he  eventually  took  up  notes  aggregating 
forty-two  thousand  dollars  that  he  had  given  to  a  well- 
known  Chicago  printer  who  had  befriended  him  in  years 
gone  by.  What  was  most  important,  he  was  now  free 
to  unfurl  his  name  to  the  breezes  and  to  do  business  "on 
his  own." 

Charles  immediately  launched  himself  on  another  sea 
of  productions.  The  most  important  was  Gillette's 
"All  the  Comforts  of  Home,"  which  he  put  on  at 
Proctor's  Twenty-third  Street  Theater.  Frohman  had 
just  acquired  the  lease  of  this  theater.  Already  a  big 
idea  was  simmering  in  his  mind,  and  the  leasehold  was 

125 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

essential  to  its  consummation.  On  May  8,  1890,  he 
produced  the  new  Gillette  play,  which  scored  a  success. 

This  production  marked  another  one  of  the  many 
significant  epochs  in  Frohman's  life  because  it  witnessed 
the  first  appearance  of  little  Maude  Adams  under  the 
Charles  Frohman  management. 

Frohman  had  seen  Miss  Adams  in  "The  Paymaster" 
down  at  Niblo's  and  had  been  much  taken  with  her 
work.  He  had  been  unable,  however,  to  find  a  part  for 
her,  so  it  was  reserved  for  his  brother  Daniel  to  give  her 
the  first  Frohman  engagement  at  thirty-five  dollars  a 
week  in  "Lord  Chumley."  Subsequently  Daniel  re- 
leased her  so  that  she  could  appear  in  the  same  cast 
with  her  mother  in  Hoyt's  "The  Midnight  Bell." 

While  trying  "All  the  Comforts  of  Home"  on  the 
road  there  occurred  an  amusing  episode.  Frohman,  who 
had  been  watching  the  rehearsals  very  carefully,  said 
to  Henry  Miller,  who  was  leading  man: 

"Henry,  you  are  something  of  a  matinee  idol.  I 
think  it  would  help  the  play  if  you  had  a  love  scene  with 
Miss  Adams." 

Accompanied  by  Rockwood,  Frohman  visited  Gillette 
at  his  home  at  Hartford,  got  him  to  write  the  love  scene, 
and  then  went  on  to  Springfield,  Massachusetts,  for  the 
"try-out." 

That  night  the  three  assembled  in  the  bleak  drawing- 
room  of  the  hotel.  Frohman  ordered  a  little  supper  of 
ham  sandwiches  and  sarsaparilla,  after  which  he  re- 
hearsed the  love  scene,  which  simply  consisted  of  a  ten- 
der little  parting  in  a  doorway.  It  served  to  bring  out 
the  wistful  and  appealing  tenderness  that  is  one  of  Maude 
Adams's  great  qualities. 

"AH  the  Comforts  of  Home"  ran  in  Proctor's  Theater 

126 


FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

until  October  i8th.  When  the  theater  reopened  it  dis- 
closed a  venture  that  linked  the  name  of  Charles  Froh- 
man  with  high  and  artistic  effort — his  first  stock  com- 
pany. With  this  organization  he  hoped  to  maintain  the 
traditions  established  by  Augustin  Daly,  A.  M.  Palmer, 
Lester  Wallack,  and  the  Madison  Square  Company. 

He  projected  the  Charles  Frohman  Stock  Company 
in  his  usual  lavish  way.  He  engaged  De  Mille  and 
Belasco  to  write  the  opening  play.  This  was  a  very 
natural  procedure:  first,  because  of  his  intimate  friend- 
ship with  Belasco,  and,  second,  because  De  Mille  and 
Belasco  had  proved  their  skill  as  collaborators  at  Daniel 
Frohman  *s  Lyceum  Theater  with  such  successes  as 
"The  Wife,"  "The  Charity  Ball,"  and  "Lord  Chum- 
ley."  The  result  of  their  new  endeavors  was  "Men 
and  Women." 

In  this  play  the  authors  wrote  in  the  part  Dora  es- 
pecially for  Maude  Adams.  They  also  created  a  role 
for  Mrs.  Annie  Adams. 

The  cast  of  "Men  and  Women,"  like  that  of  "Shenan- 
doah," was  a  striking  one,  and  it  contained  many  names 
already  established,  or  destined  to  figure  prominently 
in  theatrical  history.  Henry  Miller  had  been  engaged 
for  leading  man,  but  he  retired  during  the  rehearsals, 
and  his  place  was  taken  by  William  Morris,  who  had 
appeared  in  the  Charles  Frohman  production  of  "She" 
and  in  the  road  company  of  "Held  by  the  Enemy." 
In  the  company  that  Frohman  selected  were  Frederick 
de  Belleville,  who  played  Israel  Cohen,  one  of  the  finest, 
if  not  the  finest,  Jewish  characters  ever  put  on  the 
stage;  Orrin  Johnson;  Frank  Mordaunt;  Emmet  Cor- 
rigan;  J.  C.  Buckstone;  and  C.  Leslie  Alien,  brother  of 
Viola  Allen, 

127 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

In  addition  to  Maude  Adams  were  Sydney  Armstrong, 
who  was  the  leading  woman;  Odette  Tyler;  and  Etta 
Hawkins,  who  became  the  wife  of  William  Morris  during 
this  engagement. 

At  the  dress  rehearsal  of  "Men  and  Women"  oc- 
curred a  characteristic  Charles  Frohman  incident. 
When  the  curtain  had  gone  down  Frohman  hurried  back 
to  William  Morris's  dressing-room  and  said,  "Will,  that 
dress-suit  of  yours  doesn't  look  right." 

"It's  a  brand-new  suit,  'C.  F.,'"  he  replied. 

Frohman  thought  a  moment  and  said:  "Can  you  be 
at  my  office  to-morrow  morning  at  eight  o'clock?  I've 
got  a  good  tailor." 

Promptly  at  eight  the  next  day  they  went  over  to 
Frohman's  tailor,  whom  Frohman  addressed  as  follows: 

"I  want  you  to  make  a  dress-suit  for  William  Morris 
by  eight  o'clock  to-morrow  night." 

"Impossible!"  said  the  man. 

"Nothing  is  impossible,"  said  Frohman.  "If  that 
dress-suit  is  not  in  Mr.  Morris's  dressing-room  at  eight 
o'clock  you  won't  get  paid  for  it." 

The  dress-suit  showed  up  on  time,  and  in  it  was  a  card, 
saying,  "With  Charles  Frohman's  compliments." 

Charles  inaugurated  his  first  stock  season  at  Proc- 
tor's on  October  21,  1890.  Although  the  notices  were 
uniformly  good,  the  start  into  public  favor  was  a  trifle 
slow.  One  reason  was  that  a  big  bank  failure  had  just 
shaken  Wall  Street,  and  there  was  considerable  appre- 
hension all  over  the  city.  By  a  curious  coincidence 
there  was  a  bank  failure  in  the  play.  By  clever  pub- 
licity this  fact  was  capitalized;  the  piece  found  its 
stride  and  ran  for  two  hundred  consecutive  performances, 
when  it  was  sent  on  the  road  with  great  success. 

128 


FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

For  this  tour  Charles  also  introduced  another  one 
of  the  many  novelties  that  he  put  into  theatrical  con- 
duct. He  ordered  a  private  car  for  the  company,  and 
they  used  it  throughout  the  tour.  It  was  considered 
an  extravagance,  but  it  was  merely  part  of  the  Charles 
Frohman  policy  to  make  his  people  comfortable.  With 
this  private  car  he  established  a  precedent  that  was 
observed  in  most  of  his  traveling  organizations. 

With  the  stock  company  on  tour  in  **Men  and 
Women,"  the  manager  now  organized  the  Charles 
Frohman  Comedy  Company  to  fill  in  the  time  at  Proc- 
tor's. Once  more  he  collected  a  brilliant  aggregation  of 
players,  for  they  included  Henrietta  Crosman,  Joseph 
Holland,  Frederick  Bond,  and  Thomas  Wise.  Each  one 
became  a  star  in  the  course  of  the  next  ten  years. 

The  opening  bill  for  the  comedy  company  was  Gil- 
lette's **Mr.  Wilkinson's  Widows,"  and  was  presented 
on  March  30th,  immediately  following  the  run  of  ''Men 
and  Women."  Henrietta  Crosman  subsequently  with- 
drew from  the  cast,  and  Esther  Lyons  took  her  place. 

Charles  Frohman  reopened  the  theater  on  August  27  th 
with  a  revival  of  this  play,  in  which  Georgia  Drew  Barry- 
more,  the  mother  of  Ethel,  appeared  as  Mrs.  Perrin, 
Emily  Bancker,  afterward  a  star  in  ''Our  Flat,"  and 
Mat  tie  Ferguson  were  in  the  cast. 

On  October  5th  the  company  did  Sardou's  big  drama 
of  "Thermidor"  for  the  first  time  on  any  stage,  with 
another  one  of  the  casts  for  which  Charles  Frohman  was 
beginning  to  become  famous.  It  included  a  thin,  gaunt 
Englishman  whose  name  in  the  bill  was  simply  J.  F. 
Robertson,  and  who  had  just  come  from  an  engagement 
with  John  Hare  in  London.     Subsequently  the  J.  F.  in 

129 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

his  name  came  to  be  known  as  Johnston  Forbes,  because 
the  man  was  Sir  Johnston  Forbes-Robertson. 

In  this  company  was  Elsie  De  Wolfe,  who  later  became 
a  star  and  who  years  after  left  the  theater  to  become  an 
interior  decorator.  Among  the  male  members  of  the 
company,  besides  Forbes-Robertson,  was  Jamison  Lee 
Finney,  who  had  graduated  from  the  amateur  ranks  and 
who  became  one  of  the  best-known  comedians  in  the 
country. 

In  the  mean  time  Charles  had  commissioned  Henry 
C.  De  Mille  to  furnish  a  play  for  his  stock  company 
which  was  now  on  its  way  back  from  the  coast.  This 
play  was  "The  Lost  Paradise,"  which  the  American 
had  adapted  from  Ludwig  Fulda's  drama.  De  Mille 
joined  the  company  in  Denver  and  rehearsals  were  begun 
there.  By  the  time  the  company  reached  New  York 
they  were  almost  letter-perfect,  and  the  opening  at 
Proctor's  on  November  i6th  was  a  brilliant  success. 
The  play  ran  consecutively  until  March  ist. 

The  cast  was  practically  the  same  as  "Men  and 
Women,"  with  the  addition  of  Cyril  Scott,  Odette 
Tyler,  and  Bijou  Fernandez. 

In  "The  Lost  Paradise"  Maude  Adams  scored  the 
biggest  success  that  she  had  made  up  to  that  time  in  New 
York.  She  played  the  part  of  Nell,  the  consumptive 
factory  girl.  This  character,  with  its  delicate  and  haunt- 
ing interpretation,  made  an  irresistible  appeal  to  the 
audience. 

"There's  big  talent  in  that  girl,"  said  Frohman  in 
speaking  of  Miss  Adams.  He  began  to  see  the  vision  of 
what  the  years  would  hold  for  her. 

By  this  tinie  Charles  Frohman  had  begun  to  make  his 

J30 


FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

annual  visit  to  London.  Out  of  one  of  the  earliest 
journeys  came  still  another  success  of  the  many  that 
now  seemed  to  crowd  upon  him. 

He  had  taken  desk  space  with  Abbey,  Schoeffel  & 
Grau  in  Henrietta  Street  in  London.  On  the  trip  in 
question  Belasco  accompanied  him.  One  night  Froh- 
man  said: 

**  There  is  a  little  comedy  around  the  corner  called 
'Jane.*     Let's  go  and  see  it." 

Frohman  was  convulsed  with  laughter,  and  the  very 
next  day  sought  out  the  author,  William  Lestocq,  from 
whom  he  purchased  the  American  rights.  Out  of  this 
connection  came  another  one  of  the  lifelong  friendships 
of  Frohman.  Lestocq,  a  few  years  later,  became  his 
principal  English  representative  and  remained  so  until 
the  end. 

Frohman  was  now  in  a  whirlpool  of  projects.  Al- 
though he  was  occupying  himself  with  both  the  comedy 
and  stock  companies  at  Proctor's,  he  put  on  "Jane"  as 
a  midsummer  attraction  at  the  Madison  Square  Theater 
with  a  cast  that  included  Katherine  Grey,  Johnstone 
Bennett,  Jennie  Weathersby,  and  Paul  Arthur. 

**  Jane"  became  such  an  enormous  success  that  Charles 
put  out  two  road  companies  at  once.  In  connection  with 
**  Jane"  it  may  be  said  that  his  first  real  fortune — that  is, 
the  first  money  that  he  actually  kept  for  a  time — was 
made  with  this  comedy. 

Production  after  production  now  marked  the  Frohman 
career.  Charles  had  always  admired  Henry  E.  Dixey, 
so  he  laimched  him  as  star  in  **The  Solicitor"  at  Her- 
mann's Theater,  on  September  8,  1891.  It  was  the  first 
time  that  the  famous  ''Charles  Frohman  Presents"  was 
used.     In  this  company  were  Burr  Mcintosh,  Sidney 

131 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Drew,  and  Joseph  Humphreys.  It  was  the  failure  of 
''The  SoHcitor"  that  led  Frohman  to  put  Dixey  out 
again  as  star  in  a  piece  called  ''The  Man  with  a  Hundred 
Heads"  at  the  Star  Theater.  This  also  failed,  so  he 
ventured  with  "The  Junior  Partner"  at  the  same 
theater  with  a  cast  that  included  E.  J.  Rat  cliff  e,  Mrs. 
McKee  Rankin,  Henrietta  Crosman,  and  Louise  Thorn- 
dyke-B  oucicault . 

Early  the  following  year  he  tried  his  luck  at  Her- 
mann's with  "Gloriana,"  in  which  May  Robson  and 
E.  J.  Henley  appeared.  Hermann's  Theater,  however, 
seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  hoodoo,  so  Frohman  returned  to 
the  Star,  which  had  been  his  mascot,  and  made  his  first 
joint  production  with  David  Belasco  in  a  musical  piece 
called  "Miss  Helyett."  Frohman  had  seen  the  play  in 
Paris,  and  proceeded  at  once  to  buy  the  American 
rights  from  Charles  Wyndham.  This  production  not 
only  marked  the  first  joint  presentation  of  Belasco  and 
Charles,  but  it  was  the  debut  of  Mrs.  Leslie  Carter,  who 
had  become  a  protegee  of  Mr.  Belasco.  When  the  piece 
was  moved  to  the  Standard  early  in  January,  1892, 
Mrs.  Carter  was  starred  for  the  first  time. 

By  this  time  Charles  Frohman  was  a  personage  to  be 
reckoned  with.  "Shenandoah,"  the  two  stock  com- 
panies, "Jane,"  and  all  the  other  enterprises  both  suc- 
cessful and  otherwise,  had  made  his  name  a  big  one  in 
the  theater.     He  now  began  to  reach  out  for  authors. 

The  first  author  to  be  approached  was  Augustus 
Thomas.  He  gave  Charles  a  play  called  "Surrender." 
It  was  put  on  in  Boston.  The  original  idea  in  Thomas's 
mind  was  to  write  a  satire  on  the  war  plays  that  had 
been  so  successful,  like  "Shenandoah"  and  "Held  by 

132 


FIRST    STOCK    COMPANY 

the  Enemy. "  "  Surrender ' '  began  as  a  farce,  but  Charles 
Frohman  and  Eugene  Presbrey,  who  produced  it, 
wanted  to  make  it  serious. 

The  cast  was  a  very  notable  one,  including  Clement 
Bainbridge,  E.  M.  Holland,  Burr  Mcintosh,  Harry 
Woodruff,  H.  D.  Blackmore,  Louis  Aldrich,  Maude 
Bancks,  Miriam  O'Leary,  Jessie  Busley,  and  Rose 
Ey  tinge. 

The  rehearsals  of  "Surrender"  were  marked  by  many 
amusing  episodes.  Maude  Bancks,  for  example,  who 
was  playing  the  part  of  a  Northern  girl  in  a  Southern 
town,  had  to  wear  a  red  sash  to  indicate  her  Northern 
proclivities.  This  she  refused  to  put  on  at  the  dress 
rehearsal  because  it  did  not  match  her  costume.  Bain- 
bridge, an  actor  who  played  a  Southern  general,  had  a 
speech  that  he  regarded  as  treason  to  his  adopted 
country,  and  quit.  But  all  these  troubles  were  bridged 
over  and  the  play  was  produced  with  some  artistic  suc- 
cess.    It  lasted  sixteen  weeks  on  the  road. 

After  he  had  closed  ' '  Surrender ' '  Frohman  was  telling 
a  friend  in  New  York  that  he  had  lost  twenty-eight 
thousand  dollars  on  this  piece. 

"But  why  did  you  permit  yourself  to  lose  so  much 
money  on  a  play  that  seemed  bound  to  fail?" 

"I  believe  in  Gus  Thomas.  That  is  the  reason,"  re- 
plied Frohman. 

Although  immersed  in  a  multitude  of  enterprises, 
Frohman's  activities  now  took  a  new  and  significant 
tack.  Through  all  these  crowded  years  his  friendship 
for  William  Harris  had  been  growing.  Harris,  who  had 
graduated  from  minstrelsy  to  theatrical  management 
and  was  the  partner  of  Isaac  B.  Rich  in  the  conduct  of 

133 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

the  Howard  Athenaeum  and  the  HolHs  Street  Theater 
in  Boston,  now  added  the  Columbia  Theater  in  that 
city  to  his  string  of  houses.  Charles  at  once  secured 
an  interest  in  this  lease,  and  it  was  his  first  out-of-town 
theater.  Quick  to  capitalize  the  opportunity,  he  put 
one  of  the  "Jane"  road  companies  in  it  for  a  run  and 
called  it  the  Charles  Frohman  Boston  Stock  Company. 


VII 

JOHN    DREW   AND   THE    EMPIRE    THEATER 

r^HE  year  1892  not  only  found  Charles  Frohman 
established  as  an  important  play-producing  man- 
ager, but  in  addition  he  was  reaching  out  for 
widespread  theater  management.  It  was  to  register  a 
memorable  epoch  in  the  life  of  Charles  and  to  record, 
through  him,  a  significant  era  in  the  history  of  the 
American  theater.  From  this  time  on  his  life-story  was 
to  be  the  narrative  of  the  larger  development  of  the 
drama  and  its  people. 

With  the  acquisition  of  his  first  big  star,  John  Drew, 
he  laid  the  corner-stone  of  what  is  the  so-called  modern 
starring  system,  which  brought  about  a  revolution  in 
theatrical  conduct.  The  story  of  Charles's  conquest  in 
securing  the  management  of  Drew,  with  all  its  attendant 
dramatic  and  sensational  features,  illustrates  the  re- 
source and  vision  of  the  one-time  minstrel  manager 
who  now  began  to  come  into  his  own  as  a  real  Napoleon 
of  the  stage. 

Charles  always  attached  importance  and  value  to  big 
names.  He  had  paid  dearly  in  the  past  for  this  proclivity 
with  the  Lester  Wallack  Company.  Undaunted,  he 
now  turned  to  another  investment  in  name  that  was  to 
be  more  successful. 

About  this  time  John  Drew  had  made  his  way  to  a 
unique  eminence  on  the  American  stage.     A  member  of 

13s 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

a  distinguished  Philadelphia  theatrical  family,  he  had 
scored  an  instantaneous  success  on  his  first  appearance 
at  home  and  had  become  the  leading  man  of  Augustin 
Daly's  famous  stock  company.  He  was  one  of  "The 
Big  Four"  of  that  distinguished  organization,  which 
included  Ada  Rehan,  Mrs.  G.  H.  Gilbert,  and  James 
Lewis.  They  were  known  as  such  in  America  and 
England.  Drew  was  regarded  as  the  finest  type  of  the 
so-called  modern  actor  interpreting  the  gentleman  in  the 
modern  play.  He  shone  in  the  drawing-room  drama; 
he  had  a  distinct  following,  and  was  therefore  an  in- 
valuable asset.  The  general  impression  was  that  he 
was  wedded  to  the  environment  that  had  proved  so 
successful  and  was  so  congenial. 

Charles  knew  Drew  quite  casually.  Their  first  meet- 
ing was  characteristic.  It  happened  during  the  great 
''Shenandoah"  run.  Henry  Miller  and  Drew  were  old 
friends.  It  was  Frohman's  custom  in  those  days  to 
have  after-theater  suppers  on  Saturday  nights  at  his 
rooms  in  the  old  Hoffman  House,  and  sometimes  a 
friendly  game  of  cards. 

One  Saturday  Miller  called  Frohman  up  and  asked 
him  if  he  could  bring  Drew  down  for  supper. 

''Certainly;  with  pleasure,"  said  Frohman. 

That  night  after  the  play  Miller  picked  Drew  up  at 
Daly's  and  took  him  to  the  Hoffman  House.  Knowing 
the  way  to  the  Frohman  rooms,  he  started  for  them 
unannounced,  when  he  was  stopped  by  a  bell-boy,  who 
said,  "Mr.  Frohman  is  expecting  you  in  here,"  opening 
the  door  and  ushering  the  guests  into  a  magnificent 
private  suite  that  Frohman  had  engaged  for  the  occasion. 
It  was  the  first  step  in  the  campaign  for  Drew. 

Although  Frohman  was  eager  to  secure  Drew,  he  made 

136 


JOHN  DREW 


I 


DREW    AND    THE    EMPIRE 

no  effort  to  lure  the  actor  away  from  what  he  believed 
was  a  very  satisfactory  connection. 

As  the  friendship  between  the  men  grew,  however,  he 
discovered  that  Drew  was  becoming  dissatisfied  with  his 
arrangement  at  Daly's.  Up  to  that  time  **The  Big 
Four"  shared  in  the  profits  of  the  theater.  Daly  can- 
celed this  arrangement,  and  Drew  suddenly  realized  that 
what  seemed  to  be  a  most  attractive  alliance  really  held 
out  no  future  for  him. 

Drew's  dissatisfaction  was  heightened  by  his  realiza- 
tion that  Augustin  Daly's  greatest  work  and  achieve- 
ments were  behind  him.  The  famous  old  manager  was 
undergoing  that  cycle  of  experience  which  comes  to  all 
of  his  kind  when  the  flood-tide  of  their  success  begins  to 
ebb. 

Drew  was  speculating  about  his  future  when  Frohman 
heard  of  his  state  of  mind.  He  now  felt  that  he  would 
not  be  violating  the  ethics  of  the  profession  in  making 
overtures  looking  to  an  alliance.  He  did  not  make 
a  direct  offer,  but  sent  a  mutual  friend,  Frank  Bennett, 
once  a  member  of  the  Daly  company,  who  was  then 
conducting  the  Arlington  Hotel  in  Washington.  Through 
him  Frohman  made  a  proposition  to  Drew  to  become  a 
star.  The  actor  accepted  the  offer,  and  a  three-year 
contract  was  signed. 

The  capture  of  John  Drew  by  Charles  Frohman  was 
more  than  a  mere  business  stroke.  Frohman  never 
forgot  that  the  great  Daly  had  succeeded  in  ousting  him 
from  his  first  booking-offices  in  the  Daly  Theater 
Building.  He  found  not  a  little  humor  in  pre-empting 
the  services  of  the  Daly  leading  man  as  a  sort  of  reciprocal 
stroke. 

When  Drew  told  Daly  that  he  had  signed  a  contract 
10  137 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

with  Frohman  the  then  dictator  of  the  American  stage 
could  scarcely  find  words  to  express  his  astonishment. 
He  assured  Drew  that  he  was  making  the  mistake  of  his 
life,  because  he  regarded  Frohman  as  an  unlicensed 
interloper.  Yet  this  *' interloper,"  from  the  moment  of 
the  Drew  contract,  began  a  new  career  of  brilliant  and 
artistic  development. 

Frohman 's  starring  arrangement  with  Drew  created  a 
sensation,  both  among  the  public  and  in  the  profession. 
It  broke  up  ''The  Big  Four,"  for  Drew  left  a  gap  at 
Daly's  that  could  not  be  filled. 

There  was  also  a  widespread  feeling  that  while  Drew 
had  succeeded  in  a  congenial  environment,  and  with  an 
actress  (Miss  Rehan)  who  was  admirably  suited  to  him, 
he  might  not  duplicate  this  success  amid  new  scenes. 
Hence  arose  much  speculation  about  his  leading  woman. 
A  dozen  names  were  bruited  about. 

Charles  Frohman  remained  silent.  He  was  keenly 
sensitive  to  the  sensation  he  was  creating,  and  was  biding 
his  time  to  launch  another.  It  came  when  he  announced 
Maude  Adams  as  John  Drew's  leading  woman.  He 
had  watched  her  development  with  eager  and  interested 
eye.  She  had  made  good  wherever  he  had  placed  her. 
Now  he  gave  her  what  was  up  to  this  time  her  biggest 
chance.  The  moment  her  name  became  bracketed  with 
Drew's  there  was  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  over  the  choice. 
How  wise  Charles  Frohman  was  in  the  whole  Drew 
venture  was  about  to  be  abundantly  proved. 

Charles  Frohman  not  only  made  John  Drew  a  star, 
but  the  nucleus  of  a  whole  system.  It  was  a  time  of,  re- 
birth for  the  whole  American  stage.  Nearly  all  the  old 
stars  were  gone  or  were  passing  from  view.     Forrest, 

138 


DREW    AND    THE    EMPIRE 

McCullough,  Cushman,  Janauschek  were  gone;  Mod- 
jeska's  power  was  waning;  Clara  Morris  was  soon  to 
leave  the  stage  world;  Lawrence  Barrett  and  W.J. 
Florence  were  dead;   Edwin  Booth  had  retired. 

Frohman  realized  that  with  the  passing  of  these  stars 
there  also  passed  the  system  that  had  created  them. 
He  knew  that  the  public — the  new  generation — wanted 
younger  people,  popular  names — somebody  to  talk 
about.  He  realized  further  that  the  public  adored  per- 
sonality and  that  the  strongest  prop  that  a  play  could 
get  was  a  fascinating  and  magnetic  human  being, 
whether  male  or  female.  The  old  stars  had  made 
themselves — risen  from  the  ranks  after  years  of  service. 
Frohman  saw  the  opportunity  to  accelerate  this  advance 
by  providing  swift  and  spectacular  recognition.  The 
new  stars  that  were  now  to  blossom  into  life  under  him 
owed  their  being  to  the  initiative  and  the  vision  of  some 
one  else.    Thus  he  became  the  first  of  the  star-makers. 

Charles  was  now  all  excitement.  He  had  the  making 
of  his  first  big  star,  and  he  proceeded  to  launch  him 
in  truly  magnificent  fashion. 

A  play  was  needed  that  would  bring  out  all  those 
qualities  that  had  made  Drew  shine  in  the  drawing-room 
drama.  The  very  play  itself  was  destined  to  mark  an 
epoch  in  the  life  of  a  man  in  the  theater.  Through 
Elizabeth  Marbury,  who  had  just  launched  herself  as 
play-broker  in  a  little  office  on  Twenty-fourth  Street, 
around  the  corner  from  Charles  Frohman 's,  his  attention 
was  called  to  a  French  farcical  comedy  called  ''The 
Masked  Ball,"  by  Alexandre  Bisson  and  Albert  Carre. 
Frohman  liked  the  story  and  wanted  it  adapted  for 
American  production.  It  was  the  beginning  of  his  long 
patronage  of  French  plays. 

139 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

**I  know  a  brilliant  young  man  who  could  do  this 
job  for  you  very  well,"  said  Miss  Marbury. 

''What's  his  name?"  asked  Frohman. 

"Clyde  Fitch,  and  I  believe  he  is  going  to  have  a 
great  career,"  was  the  answer  of  his  sponsor. 

Fitch  was  given  the  commission.  He  did  a  most 
successful  piece  of  adaptation,  and  in  this  way  began 
the  long  and  close  relationship  between  the  author  of 
"Beau  Brummel"  (his  first  play)  and  the  man  who, 
more  than  any  other,  did  so  much  to  advance  his  career. 

For  Drew's  debut  under  his  management  Charles 
spared  no  expense.  In  addition  to  Maude  Adams,  the 
company  included  Harry  Harwood  (who  was  then  com- 
ing into  his  own  as  a  forceful  and  versatile  character 
actor),  C.  Leslie  Allen,  Mrs.  Annie  Adams,  and  Frank 
E.  Lamb. 

With  his  usual  desire  to  do  everything  in  a  splendid 
way,  Frohman  arranged  for  Drew's  debut  at  Palmer's 
Theater,  the  old  Lester  Wallack  playhouse  which  was 
now  under  the .  management  of  A.  M.  Palmer,  then 
one  of  the  shining  figures  in  the  American  drama,  and 
located  opposite  Drew's  former  scenes  of  activity.  Thus 
Drew's  first  stellar  appearance  was  on  a  stage  rich  with 
tradition. 

"The  Masked  Ball"  opened  October  3,  1892,  in  the 
presence  of  a  representative  audience.  It  was  an  in- 
stantaneous success.  Drew  played  with  brilliancy  and 
distinction,  and  Frohman 's  confidence  in  him  was  amply 
justified. 

The  performance,  however,  had  a  human  interest 
apart  from  the  star.  Maude  Adams,  for  the  first  time 
in  her  career,  had  a  real  Broadway  opportunity,  and  she 
made  the  most  of  it  in  such  a  fashion  as  to  convince 

140 


>m>^'* 


-Wf : 


DREW    AND    THE    EMPIRE 

Frohman  and  every  one  else  that  before  many  years 
were  past  she,  too,  would  have  her  name  up  in  electric 
lights.  She  played  the  part  of  Zuzanne  Blondet,  a  more 
or  less  frivolous  person,  and  it  was  in  distinct  contrast 
with  the  character  that  she  had  just  abandoned,  tha^ 
of  Nell,  the  consumptive  factory-girl  in  ''The  Lost 
Paradise." 

As   Zuzanne   in    ''The   Masked   Ball,"  Miss   Adams 


3>^   (Y^^^^>\ 


A  CHARACTERISTIC  FROHMAN  BLUE  PENCIL  SKETCH 
141 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

went  to  a  ball  and  assumed  tipsiness  in  order  to  influence 
her  dissipated  husband  and  achieve  his  ultimate  reforma- 
tion. The  way  she  prepared  for  this  part  was  char- 
acteristic of  the  woman.  She  wore  a  hat  with  a  long 
feather,  and  she  determined  to  make  it  a  "tipsy  feather." 
This  feature  became  one  of  the  comedy  hits  of  the 
play,  but  in  order  to  achieve  it  she  worked  for  days 
and  days  to  bring  about  the  desired  effect.  The  result 
of  all  this  painstaking  preparation  was  a  brilliant  per- 
formance. When  the  curtain  went  down  on  that  mem- 
orable night  at  Palmer's  Theater  the  general  impression 
was: 

''Maude  Adams  will  be  the  next  Frohman  star." 

The  morning  after  the  opening  Frohman  went  to 
John  Drew  and  said:  ''Well,  John,  you  don't  need  me 
any  more  now.     You're  made." 

"No,  Charles;  I  shall  need  you  always,"  was  the  reply. 

Out  of  this  engagement  came  the  long  and  intimate 
friendship  between  Drew  and  Frohman.  The  first 
contract,  signed  and  sealed  on  that  precarious  day  when 
Frohman  was  seeing  the  vision  of  the  modern  star  sys- 
tem, was  the  last  formal  bond  between  them.  Though 
their  negotiations  involved  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
dollars  in  the  years  that  passed,  there  was  never  another 
scrap  of  paper  between  them. 

Seldom  in  the  history  of  the  American  theater  has 
another  event  been  so  productive  of  far-reaching  con- 
sequence as  "The  Masked  Ball."  It  brought  Clyde 
Fitch  into  contact  with  the  man  who  was  to  be  his  real 
sponsor;  it  made  John  Drew  a  star;  it  carried  Maude 
Adams  to  the  frontiers  of  the  stellar  realm;  it  gave 
Charles  Frohman  a  whole  new  and  distinguished  place 
in  the  theater. 

142 


DREW    AND    THE    EMPIRE 

Frohman  was  quick  to  follow  up  this  success.  With 
Drew  he  had  made  his  first  real  bid  for  what  was  known 
in  those  days  as  ' '  the  carriage  trade" — that  is,  the  patron- 
age of  the  socially  elect.  He  hastened  to  clinch  this 
with  another  stunning  production  at  Palmer's.  It  was 
Bronson  Howard's  play,  ''Aristocracy." 

The  play,  produced  on  November  14,  1893,  was  done 
in  Frohman 's  usual  lavish  way.  The  company  included 
not  less  than  half  a  dozen  people  who  were  then  making 
their  way  toward  stardom — Wilton  Lackaye,  Viola  Allen, 
Blanche  Walsh,  WiUiam  Faversham,  Frederick  Bond, 
Bruce  McRae,  Paul  Arthur,  W.  H.  Thompson,  J.  W. 
Piggott.  "Aristocracy"  was  Bronson  Howard's  rever- 
sion to  the  serenity  of  the  society  drama  after  the  spec- 
tacle of  war.  The  first  night's  audience  was  fashionable. 
The  distinction  of  the  cast  lent  much  to  the  success  of 
the  occasion. 

When  John  Drew  called  on  Charles  Frohman  for  the 
first  time  at  his  offices  at  1127  Broadway,  his  way  was 
impeded  by  a  bright-eyed,  alert  young  office-boy  who 
bore  the  unromantic  name  of  Peter  Daly.  He  incar- 
nated every  ill  to  which  his  occupation  seems  to  be  heir. 
Without  troubling  himself  to  find  out  if  Mr.  Frohman 
was  in,  he  immediately  said,  after  the  grand  fashion 
of  theatrical  office-boys: 

"Mr.  Frohman  is  out  and  I  don't  know  when  he 
will  return." 

"But  I  have  an  engagement  with  Mr.  Frohman," 
said  Drew. 

"You  will  have  to  wait,"  said  the  boy. 

Drew  cooled  his  heels  outside  while  Frohman  waited 
impatiently  inside  for  him.  When  he  emerged  at  lunch- 
US 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

time  he  was  surprised  to  find  his  man  about  to  de- 
part. 

Daly  was  immediately  discharged  by  Julius  Cahn, 
who  was  office  manager,  but  was  promptly  reinstated 
the  next  day  by  Frohman,  who  had  been  greatly  im- 
pressed with  the  boy's  quick  wit  and  intelHgence. 

This  office-boy,  it  is  interesting  to  relate,  became 
Arnold  Daly,  the  actor.  No  experience  of  his  life  was 
perhaps  more  amusing  or  picturesque  than  the  crowded 
year  when  he  manned  the  outside  door  of  Charles  Froh- 
man's  office.  Instead  of  attending  to  business,  he  spent 
most  of  his  time  writing  burlesques  on  contemporary 
plays,  which  he  solemnly  submitted  to  Harry  Rock^'ood, 
the  bookkeeper. 

During  these  days  occurred  a  now  famous  episode. 
Young  Daly  was  luxuriously  reclining  in  the  most 
comfortable  chair  in  the  reception-room  one  day  when 
Louise  Closser  Hale,  the  actress,  entered  and  asked  to 
see  Charles  Frohman. 

''He  is  out,"  said  Daly. 

''May  I  wait  for  him?"  asked  the  visitor. 

"Yes,"  answered  Daly,  and  the  woman  sat  down. 

After  three  hours  had  passed  she  asked  Daly,  "Where 
is  Mr.  Frohman?" 

"He's  in  London,"  was  the  reply. 

Afterward  Daly  became  "dresser"  for  John  Drew, 
the  virus  of  the  theater  got  into  his  system,  and  before 
long  he  was  an  actor. 

Thus  even  Charles  Frohman's  office-boys  became  stars. 

Epochal  as  had  been  1892,  witnessing  the  first  big 
Frohman  star  and  a  great  artistic  expansion,  the  new 
year  that  now  dawned  realized  another  and  still  greater 

144 


DREW    AND    THE    EMPIRE 

dream  of  Charles  Frohman,  for  it  brought  the  dedication 
of  his  own  New  York  theater  at  last,  the  famous  Empire. 

Ever  since  he  had  been  launched  in  the  metropolitan 
theatrical  whirlpool,  Frohman  wanted  a  New  York 
theater.  As  a  boy  he  had  witnessed  the  glories  of  the 
Union  Square  Theater  under  Palmer ;  as  a  road  manager 
he  had  a  part  in  the  success  of  the  Madison  Square 
Theater  activities;  in  his  early  managerial  days  he  had 
been  associated  with  the  Lester  Wallack  organization; 
he  had  watched  the  later  triumphs  of  the  Lyceum 
Theater  Company  at  home  and  on  the  road.  Quite 
naturally  he  came  to  the  conviction  that  he  was  ready 
to  operate  and  control  a  big  theater  of  his  own. 

The  way  toward  its  consummation  was  this: 

One  day  toward  the  end  of  the  'eighties,  William  Harris 
came  to  New  York  to  see  Frohman  about  the  booking 
of  some  attractions.    He  said: 

'  *  Charley,  I  want  a  theater  in  New  York,  and  I  know 
that  you  want  one.     Let's  combine." 

"All  right,"  said  Frohman.  *'You  can  get  the  Union 
Square.    The  lease  is  on  the  market." 

''Very  well,"  said  Harris. 

On  the  way  down-stairs  he  met  Al  Hayman,  who  asked 
him  where  he  was  going. 

'T  am  going  over  to  lease  the  Union  Square  Theater," 
he  replied. 

"That's  foolish,"  said  Hayman.  "Everything  theat- 
rical is  going  up- town." 

"Well,"  answered  Harris,  "C.  F.  wants  a  theater, 
and  I  am  determined  that  he  shall  have  it,  so  I  am 
going  over  to  get  the  Union  Square." 

' '  If  you  and  Frohman  want  a  theater  that  badly,  I  will 
build  one  for  you,"  he  responded. 

145 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

''Where?"  asked  Harris. 

"I've  got  some  lots  at  Fortieth  and  Broadway,  and 
it's  a  good  site,  even  if  it  is  away  up-town." 

They  went  back  to  Frohman's  office,  and  here  was 
hatched  the  plan  for  the  Empire  Theater. 

"I  can't  go  ahead  on  this  matter  without  Rich," 
said  Harris. 

"All  right,"  said  Frohman.    "Wire  Rich." 

Rich  came  down  next  day,  and  the  final  details  were 
concluded  for  the  building  of  the  Empire.  Frank 
Sanger  came  in  as  a  partner;  thus  the  builders  were  Al 
Hay  man,  Frank  Sanger,  and  William  Harris.  Without 
the  formality  of  a  contract  they  turned  it  over  to  Charles 
Frohman  with  the  injunction  that  he  could  do  with  it 
as  he  pleased. 

Frohman  was  in  his  element.  He  could  now  embark 
on  another  one  of  the  favorite  dream-enterprises. 

He  was  like  a  child  during  the  building  of  the  theater. 
Every  moment  that  he  could  spare  from  his  desk  he 
would  walk  up  the  street  and  watch  the  demolition  of  the 
old  houses  that  were  to  make  way  for  this  structure. 
Often  he  would  get  Belasco  and  take  him  up  the  street 
to  note  the  progress.  One  night  as  they  stood  before 
the  skeleton  of  the  theater  that  stood  gaunt  and  gray 
in  the  gloom  Charles  said  to  his  friend: 

"David,  just  think;  the  great  dream  is  coming  true, 
and  yet  it's  only  a  few  years  since  we  sat  at  'Beefsteak 
John's'  with  only  forty-two  cents  between  us." 

Naturally,  Frohman  turned  to  Belasco  for  the  play  to 
open  the  Empire.  His  old  friend  was  then  at  work  on 
"The  Heart  of  Maryland"  for  Mrs.  Leshe  Carter.  He 
explained  the  situation  to  Frohman.  As  soon  as  Mrs. 
Carter  heard  of  it  she  went  to  Frohman  and  told  him 

146 


DREW    AND    THE    EMPIRE 

that  she  would  waive  her  appearance  and  that  Belasco 
must  go  ahead  on  the  Empire  play,  which  he  did. 

Just  what  kind  of  play  to  produce  was  the  problem. 
Frohman  still  clung  to  the  mascot  of  war.  The  blue 
coat  and  brass  buttons  had  turned  the  tide  for  him  with 
"Shenandoah,"  and  he  was  superstitious  in  wanting 
another  stirring  and  martial  piece.  Belasco  had  become 
interested  in  Indians,  but  he  also  wanted  to  introduce 
the  evening-clothes  feature.  Hence  came  the  inspiration 
of  a  ball  at  an  army  post  in  the  far  West  during  the 
Indian-fighting  days.  This  episode  proved  to  be  the 
big  dramatic  situation  of  the  new  piece. 

Then  came  the  night  when  Belasco  read  the  play  to 
Frohman,  who  walked  up  and  down  the  floor.  When 
the  author  finished,  Frohman  rushed  up  to  him  with  a 
brilliant  smile  on  his  face  and  said : 

''David,  you've  done  the  whole  business!  You've 
got  pepper  and  salt,  soup,  entree,  roast,  salad,  dessert, 
coffee;  it's  a  real  play,  and  I  know  it  will  be  a  success." 

Having  finished  the  work,  which  Belasco  wrote  in 
collaboration  with  Frankhn  Fyles,  then  dramatic  editor 
of  the  New  York  Sun,  they  needed  a  striking  name. 
So  they  sent  the  manuscript  to  Daniel,  down  at  the 
Lyceum,  for  Charles  always  declared  he  had  been  happy 
in  the  selection  of  play  titles.  Back  came  the  manu- 
script with  his  approval  of  the  work,  and  with  the  title 
"The  Giri  I  Left  Behind  Me."  This  they  eagerly 
adopted. 

Long  before  "The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me"  manuscript 
was  ready  to  leave  Belasco's  hands,  Frohman  was  assem- 
bling his  company.  Instead  of  having  a  star,  he  decided 
to  have  an  all-round  stock  company.  The  success 
of  this  kind  of  institution  had  been  amply  proved  at 

147 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Daly's,  Wallack's,  the  Madison  Square,  and  the  Lyceimi, 
Hence  the  Charles  Frohman  Stock  Company,  which 
had  scored  so  heavily  with  *'Men  and  Women"  and 
''The  Lost  Paradise"  at  Proctor's  Twenty-third  Street 
Theater,  now  became  the  famous  Empire  Theater  Stock 
Company  and  incidentally  the  greatest  of  all  star 
factories.  William  Morris  was  retained  as  the  first  lead- 
ing man,  and  the  company  included  Orrin  Johnson, 
Cyril  Scott,  W.  H.  Thompson,  Theodore  Roberts, 
Sydney  Armstrong,  Odette  Tyler,  and  Edna  Wallace. 
The  child  in  the  play  was  a  precocious  youngster  called 
'' Wally  "  Eddinger,  who  is  the  famiHar  Wallace  Eddinger 
of  the  present-day  stage. 

The  rehearsals  for  ''The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me" 
were  held  in  the  Standard  Theater,  which  Frohman 
had  already  booked  for  productions,  and  were  super- 
vised by  Belasco.  Frohman,  however,  was  always  on 
hand,  and  his  suggestions  were  invaluable. 

*'The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me"  was  tried  out  for  a 
week  at  Washington.  The  company  arrived  there  on 
Sunday  afternoon,  but  was  unable  to  get  the  stage 
until  midnight  because  Robert  G.  Ingersoll  was  deliv- 
ering a  lecture  there.  At  the  outset  of  this  rehearsal 
Belasco  became  ill  and  had  to  retire  to  his  bed,  and 
Frohman  took  up  the  direction  of  this  final  rehearsal 
and  worked  with  the  company  until  long  after  dawn. 

The  week  in  Washington  rounded  out  the  play 
thoroughly,  and  the  company  returned  to  New  York 
on  the  morning  of  January  25,  1893.  Now  came  a 
characteristic  example  of  Frohman 's  resource.  At  noon 
it  was  discovered  that  the  new  electric-light  installation 
was  not  yet  complete.  Added  to  this  was  the  discon- 
certing fact  that  the  paint  on  the  chairs  was  scarcely 


DREW    AND    THE    EMPIRE 

dry.  Sanger,  Harris,  and  Rich  urged  Frohman  to  post- 
pone the  opening.  **It  will  be  useless  to  open  under 
these  conditions,"  they  said. 

*'The  Empire  must  open  to-night,"  said  Frohman, 
"if  we  have  to  open  it  by  candle-light." 

In  saying  this  Charles  Frohman  emphasized  what  was 
one  of  his  iron-clad  rules,  for  he  never  postponed  an 
announced  opening. 

That  January  night  was  a  memorable  one  in  the  life 
of  Frohman.  He  sat  on  a  low  chair  in  the  wings,  and 
alongside  of  him  sat  Belasco.  His  face  beamed,  yet  he 
was  very  nervous,  as  he  always  was  on  openings.  At 
the  end  of  the  third  act,  when  the  audience  made  in- 
sistent calls  for  speeches,  Belasco  tried  to  drag  Frohman 
out,  but  he  would  not  go.  "You  go,  David,"  he  said. 
And  Belasco  went  out  and  made  a  speech. 

"The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me"  was  a  complete  suc- 
cess, and  played  two  hundred  and  eighty-eight  consecu- 
tive performances. 

The  opening  of  the  Empire  Theater  strengthened 
Charles  Frohman's  position  immensely.  More  than  this, 
it  established  a  whole  new  theatrical  district  in  New 
York.  When  it  was  opened  there  was  only  one  up-town 
theater,  the  Broadway.  Within  a  few  years  other  play- 
houses followed  the  example  of  the  Empire,  and  camped 
in  its  environs.  Thus  again  Charles  Frohman  was  a 
pioneer. 

The  Empire  Theater  now  became  the  nerve-center 
of  the  Charles  Frohman  interests.  He  established  his 
offices  on  the  third  floor,  and  there  they  remained  until 
his  death.  He  practically  occupied  the  whole  building, 
for  his  booking  interests,  which  had  now  grown  to  great 
proportions,  and  which  were  in  charge  of  JuHus  Cahn, 

149 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

occupied  a  whole  suite  of  offices.  He  now  had  his  own 
New  York  theater,  a  star  of  the  first  magnitude,  and  a 
stock  company  with  a  national  reputation. 

When  the  Empire  Stock  Company  began  its  second 
season  in  the  August  of  1893,  in  R.  C.  Carton's  play, 
''Liberty  Hall,"  Charles  Frohman  was  able  to  keep 
the  promise  he  had  made  to  Henry  Miller  back  in  the 
'eighties  in  San  Francisco.  That  handsome  and  dashing 
young  actor  now  succeeded  William  Morris  as  leading 
man  of  the  stock  company,  Viola  Allen  became  leading 
woman,  and  May  Robson  also  joined  the  company. 
* '  Liberty  Hall ' '  ran  until  the  end  of  October,  when  David 
Belasco's  play,  **The  Younger  Son,"  was  put  on.  This 
added  William  Faversham  to  the  ranks,  and  thus  another 
star  possibility  came  imder  the  sway  of  the  Star-Maker. 

The  Empire  became  the  apple  of  Charles  Frohman 's 
eye,  and  remained  so  until  his  death.  No  star  and  no 
play  was  too  good  for  it.  On  it  he  lavished  wealth  and 
genuine  affection.  To  appear  with  the  Empire  Stock 
Company  was  to  be  decorated  with  the  Order  of  Theat- 
rical Merit.  To  it  in  turn  came  Robert  Edison,  Ethel 
Barrymore,  Elita  Proctor  Otis,  Jameson  Lee  Finney, 
Elsie  De  Wolfe,  W.  J.  Ferguson,  Ferdinand  Gottschalk, 
J.  E.  Dodson,  Margaret  Anglin,  J.  Henry  Benrimo,  Ida 
Conquest,  and  Arthur  Byron. 

The  Empire  Stock  Company  became  an  accredited 
institution.  A  new  play  by  it  was  a  distinct  event, 
its  annual  tour  to  the  larger  cities  an  occasion  that  was 
eagerly  awaited.  To  have  a  play  produced  by  it  was  the 
goal  of  the  ambitious  playwright,  both  here  and  abroad. 

Through  the  playing  of  the  Empire  Company  Frohman 
introduced  Oscar  Wilde  to  America,  and  with  the  stock- 
company  opportunities  he  developed  such  playwrights 

150 


DREW    AND    THE    EMPIRE 

as  Henry  Arthur  Jones,  Haddon  Chambers,  Sydney 
Grundy,  Louis  N.  Parker,  Madeline  Lucette  Ryley, 
Henry  Guy  Carleton,  Clyde  Fitch,  Jerome  K.  Jerome, 
and  Arthur  Wing  Pinero. 

Having  firmly  established  the  Empire  Theater,  Charles 
now  turned  to  a  myriad  of  enterprises.  He  acquired  the 
lease  of  the  Standard  Theater  (afterward  the  Manhattan) 
and  began  there  a  series  of  productions  that  was  to  have 
significant  effect  on  his  fortunes. 

In  May,  1893,  he  produced  a  comedy  called  ** Fanny," 
by  George  R.  Sims,  of  London,  in  which  W.  J.  Ferguson, 
Frank  Burbeck,  and  Johnston  Bennett  appeared.  It 
was  a  very  dismal  failure,  but  it  produced  one  of  the 
famous  Frohman  epigrams.  Sims  sent  Frohman  the 
following  telegram  a  few  days  after  the  opening: 

How  is  Fanny  going? 

Whereupon  Frohman  sent  this  laconic  reply: 

Gone. 

Now  came  another  historic  episode  in  Frohman 's 
career.  He  was  making  his  annual  visit  to  London. 
The  lure  and  love  of  the  great  city  was  in  him  and  it 
grew  with  each  succeeding  pilgrimage.  He  had  learned 
to  select  successful  English  plays,  as  the  case  of  "Jane" 
had  proved.  Now  he  was  to  go  further  and  capture 
one  of  his  rarest  prizes. 

Just  about  this  time  Brandon  Thomas's  farce,  * '  Char- 
ley's Aunt,"  had  been  played  at  the  Globe  Theater 
as  a  Christmas  attraction  and  was  staggering  along 
in  great  uncertainty.  W.  S.  Penley,  who  owned  the  rights, 
played  the  leading  part. 

151 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Suddenly  it  became  a  success,  and  the  "managerial 
Yankee  birds,"  as  they  called  the  American  theatrical 
magnates,  began  to  roost  in  London.  All  had  their 
claws  set  for  "Charley's  Aunt." 

Frohman  had  established  an  office  in  London  at  4 
Henrietta  Street,  in  the  vicinity  of  Covent  Garden. 
His  friendship  with  W.  Lestocq,  the  author  of  "Jane," 
developed.  Lestocq,  who  was  the  son  of  a  publisher, 
and  had  graduated  from  a  clever  amateur  actor  into  a 
professional,  conceived  a  great  liking  for  Frohman. 
While  all  the  American  managers  were  angling  for 
"Charley's  Aunt,"  he  went  to  Penley,  who  was  his 
friend,  and  said: 

"Frohman  has  done  so  well  with  'Jane'  in  America, 
he  is  the  man  to  do  'Charley's  Aunt.'" 

Penley  agreed  to  hold  up  all  his  negotiations  for  the 
play  until  Frohman  arrived.  A  conference  was  held, 
and,  through  the  instrumentality  of  Lestocq,  Frohman 
secured  the  American  rights  to  "Charley's  Aunt." 

At  the  end  of  this  meeting  Lestocq  said  in  jest,  "What 
do  I  get  out  of  this?" 

"I'll  show  you,"  said  Frohman.  "You  shall  represent 
me  in  London  hereafter." 

Out  of  this  conference  came  one  of  the  longest  and 
most  loyal  associations  in  Charles's  career,  because 
from  that  hour  until  the  day  of  his  death  Lestocq 
represented  Charles  Frohman  in  England  with  a  fidelity 
of  purpose  and  a  devotion  of  interest  that  were  character- 
istic of  the  men  who  knew  and  worked  with  Charles 
Frohman. 

Frohman  now  returned  to  America  to  produce  ' '  Char- 
ley's Aunt."  In  spite  of  the  success  of  the  Empire, 
Frohman   had   "plunged"   in   various   ways,    and   had 

152 


THE     DOVER     STUDIOS.     LONDON 


iV.  LESTOCQ 


DREW    AND    THE    EMPIRE 

reached  one  of  the  numerous  financial  crises  in  his  life. 
He  looked  upon  ''Charley's  Aunt"  as  the  agency  that 
was  to  again  redeem  him.  For  the  American  production 
he  imported  Etienne  Girardot,  who  had  played  the 
leading  role  in  the  English  production.  He  surrounded 
Girardot  with  an  admirable  cast,  including  W.  J.  Fer- 
guson, Frank  Burbeck,  Henry  Woodruff,  Nanette  Corn- 
stock,  and  Jessie  Busley. 

Frohman  personally  rehearsed  ** Charley's  Aunt.'*  He 
tried  it  out  first  at  Bethlehem,  Pennsylvania,  where  the 
reception  was  not  particularly  cordial.  He  returned 
to  New  York  in  a  great  state  of  apprehension,  although 
his  good  spirits  were  never  dampened.  On  October  2, 
1893,  he  produced  the  play  at  the  Standard,  and  it  was 
an  immediate  success.  As  the  curtain  went  down  on  the 
first  night's  performance  he  assembled  the  company  on 
the  stage  and  made  a  short  speech,  thanking  them  for 
their  co-operation.  It  was  the  first  time  in  his  career 
that  he  had  done  this,  and  it  showed  how  keenly  con- 
cerned he  was.  It  was  another  ''Shenandoah,"  because 
it  recouped  his  purse,  depleted  from  numerous  outside 
ventures,  inspired  him  with  a  fresh  zeal,  and  enabled 
him  to  proceed  with  fresh  enterprises.  It  ran  for  two 
hundred  nights,  and  then  duplicated  its  New  York 
success  on  the  road. 

While  gunning  for  "Charley's  Aunt,"  Charles  Froh- 
man made  his  first  London  production  with  "The 
Lost  Paradise."  He  put  it  on  in  partnership  with  the 
Gattis,  at  the  Adelphi  Theater  in  the  Strand.  It  was  a 
failure,  however,  and  it  discouraged  him  from  producing 
in  England  for  some  little  time. 

These  were  the  years  when  Frohman  was  making 
the  few  intimate  friendships  that  would  mean  so  much 
11  153 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

to  him  until  the  closing  hours  of  his  life.  That  of  Charles 
Dillingham  is  an  important  one. 

Dillingham  had  been  a  newspaper  man  in  Chicago  at 
a  time  when  George  Ade,  Peter  Dunne,  and  Frank 
Vanderlip  (now  president  of  the  National  City  Bank) 
were  his  co-workers.  He  became  secretary  to  Senator 
Squire,  and  at  Washington  wrote  a  play  called  "Twelve 
P.M."  A  manager  named  Frank  Williams  produced  it 
in  the  old  Bijou  Theater,  New  York,  just  about  the  time 
that  Charles  Frohman  was  presenting  John  Drew 
across  the  street  in  ''The  Masked  Ball."  Dillingham 
had  previously  come  on  to  New  York,  and  his  hopes, 
naturally,  were  in  the  play.  "Twelve  P.M."  was  a 
dismal  failure,  but  it  brought  two  unusual  men  together 
who  became  bosom  friends.  It  came  about  in  this  ex- 
traordinary way : 

During  the  second  (and  last)  week  of  the  engagement 
of  "Twelve  P.M."  at  the  Bijou,  Dillingham,  who  came 
every  night  to  see  his  play,  noticed  a  short,  stout,  but 
important-looking  man  pass  into  the  playhouse. 

"Who  is  that  man?"  he  asked. 

He  was  told  it  was  Charles  Frohman. 

A  few  days  later  he  received  a  letter  from  Frohman, 
which  said: 

Your  play  lacks  all  form  and  construction,  but 
I  like  the  lines  very  muck.  Would  you  like  to 
adapt  a  French  farce  for  me? 

Dillingham  accepted  this  commission  and  thus  met 
Frohman.  Dillingham  was  then  dramatic  editor  of 
the  New  York  Evening  Sun,  One  day  he  called  on  Froh- 
man and  asked  him  to  send  him  out  with  a  show. 

"When  do  you  want  to  go?" 

154 


/ 


DREW   AND    THE    EMPIRE 

'* Right  away.'* 

"Very  well,"  said  Frohman,  who  would  always  have 
his  little  joke.  "You  can  go  to-morrow.  I  would  like 
to  get  you  off  that  paper,  anyhow.  You  write  too  many 
bad  notices  of  my  plays." 

DilHngham  first  went  out  ahead  of  the  Empire  Stock 
Company  and  afterward  in  advance  of  John  Drew,  in 
"That  Imprudent  Young  Couple."  .  He  left  the  job, 
however,  and  soon  returned  to  Frohman,  seeking  other 
work. 

"What  would  you  like  to  do?"  asked  Frohman. 

"Take  my  yacht  and  go  to  England,"  said  Dillingham, 
facetiously. 

"All  right,"  said  Frohman.  "We  sail  Saturday," 
and  handed  him  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  stage  money 
that  happened  to  be  lying  on  his  desk.  Dillingham 
thought  at  first  he  was  joking,  but  he  was  not.  They 
sailed  on  the  St.  Paul.  Frohman  had  just  established 
his  first  offices  in  Henrietta  Street.  There  was  not 
much  business  to  transact,  and  the  pair  spent  most  of 
their  time  seeing  plays.  Dillingham  acted  as  a  sort  of 
secretary  to  Frohman. 

One  day  a  haughty  Englishman  came  up  to  the 
offices  and  asked  Dillingham  to  take  in  his  card. 

"I  have  no  time,"  said  Dillingham,  whose  sense  of 
humor  is  proverbial. 

"What  have  you  to  do?"  asked  the  man. 

"I've  got  to  wash  the  office  windows  first,"  was  the 
reply. 

The  EngHshman  became  enraged,  strode  in  to  Froh- 
man, and  told  him  what  Dillingham  had  said.  Frohman 
laughed  so  heartily  that  he  almost  rolled  out  of  his  chair. 
After  the  Englishman  left  he  went  out  and  congratulated 

155 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Dillingham  on  his  jest.  From  that  day  dated  a  Damon 
and  Pythias  friendship  between  the  two  men.  They 
were  almost  inseparable  companions. 

The  time  was  at  hand  for  another  big  star  to  twinkle 
in  the  Frohman  heaven.  During  all  these  years  William 
Gillette  had  developed  in  prestige  and  authority,  both  as 
actor  and  as  playwright.  The  quiet,  thoughtful,  schol- 
arly-looking young  actor  who  had  knocked  at  the  doors 
of  the  Madison  Square  Theater  with  the  manuscript  of 
''The  Professor,"  where  it  was  produced  after  ''Hazel 
Kirke,"  and  whose  road  tours  had  been  booked  by 
Charles  Frohman  in  his  early  days  as  route-maker, 
now  came  into  his  own.  Curiously  enough,  his  career 
was  to  be  linked  closely  with  that  of  the  little  man  he 
first  knew  in  his  early  New  York  days. 

Frohman,  who  had  booked  and  produced  Gillette's 
play  "Held  By  the  Enemy,"  now  regarded  Gillette  as 
star  material  of  the  first  rank.  Combined  with  admira- 
tion for  Gillette  as  artist  was  a  strong  personal  friend- 
ship. Gillette  now  wrote  a  play,  a  capital  farce  called 
"Too  Much  Johnson,"  which  Frohman  produced  with 
the  author  as  star.  In  connection  with  this  opening 
was  a  typical  Frohman  incident. 

The  play  was  first  put  on  at  Waltham,  Massachusetts. 
The  house  was  small  and  the  notices  bad.  Frohman 
joined  the  company  next  day  at  Springfield.  Gillette 
was  much  depressed,  and  he  met  Frohman  in  this 
mood. 

"This  is  terrible,  isn't  it?  I'm  afraid  the  play  is  a 
failure." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Frohman.  "I  have  booked  it  for 
New  York  and  for  a  long  tour  afterward." 

"Why?"  asked  Gillette  in  astonishment. 

iS6 


CHARLES    DILLINGHAM 


DREW    AND    THE    EMPIRE 

"I  saw  your  performance,"  was  the  reply. 

Frohman's  confidence  was  vindicated,  for  when  the 
play  was  put  on  at  the  Standard  Theater  in  November, 
1894,  it  went  splendidly  and  put  another  rivet  in  Gil- 
lette's reputation. 

Frohman  now  had  two  big  stars,  John  Drew  and  Will- 
iam Gillette.  A  half-dozen  others  were  in  the  making, 
chief  among  them  the  wistful-eyed  little  Maude  Adams, 
who  was  now  approaching  the  point  in  her  career  where 
she  was  to  establish  a  new  tradition  for  the  American 
stage  and  give  Charles  Frohman  a  unique  distinction. 


VIII 

MAUDE   ADAMS   AS    STAR 

T  T^Y^E^  Charles  Frohman  put  Maude  Adams 
1/1/  opposite  John  Drew  in  ''The  Masked  Ball"  he 
laid  the  foundation  of  what  is,  in  many  respects, 
his  most  remarkable  achievement.  The  demure  little  girl, 
who  had  made  her  way  from  child  actress  through  the 
perils  of  vivid  melodrama  to  a  Broadway  success,  now  set 
foot  on  the  real  highway  to  a  stardom  that  is  unique  in 
the  annals  of  the  theater. 

Brilliant  as  was  his  experience  with  the  various  men 
and  women  whom  he  raised  from  obscurity  to  fame  and 
fortune,  the  case  of  Maude  Adams  stands  out  with  pe- 
culiar distinctness.  It  is  the  one  instance  where  Charles 
Frohman  literally  manufactiired  a  star's  futiu*e. 

Yet  no  star  ever  served  so  rigorous  or  so  distinguished 
an  apprenticeship.  Her  five  years  as  leading  woman 
with  John  Drew  tried  all  her  resource.  After  her  brilliant 
performance  as  Zuzanne  Blondet  in  *'The  Masked  Ball," 
she  appeared  in  "The  Butterflies,"  by  Henry  Guy 
Carleton.  She  had  a  much  better  part  in  "The  Bauble 
Shop,"  which  followed  the  next  year. 

John  Drew's  vehicle  in  1895  was  "That  Imprudent 
Young  Couple,"  by  Henry  Guy  Carleton.  This  play 
not  only  advanced  Miss  Adams  materially,  but  first 
served  to  bring  forward  John  Drew's  niece,  Ethel  Barry- 
more,  a  graceful  slip  of  a  girl,  who  developed  a  great 

158 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

friendship  with  Miss  Adams.  Following  her  appearance 
in  the  Carleton  play  came  ''Christopher  Jr.,"  written 
by  Madeline  Lucette  Ryley,  in  which  Miss  Adams 
scored  the  biggest  hit  of  her  career  up  to  this  time. 

It  remained  for  Louis  N.  Parker's  charming  play, 
"Rosemary,"  which  was  produced  at  the  Empire  Thea- 
ter in  1896,  to  put  Miss  Adams  into  the  path  of  the 
man  who,  after  Charles  Frohman,  did  more  than  any 
other  person  in  the  world  to  give  her  the  prominence 
that  she  occupies  to-day. 

"Rosemary"  was  an  exquisite  comedy,  and  packed 
with  sentiment.  Maude  Adams  played  the  part  of 
Dorothy  Cruikshank,  a  character  of  quaint  and  appeal- 
ing sweetness.  It  touched  the  hidden  springs  of  whimsi- 
cal humor  and  thrilling  tenderness,  qualities  which  soon 
proved  to  be  among  her  chief  assets. 

Just  about  that  time  a  little  Scot,  James  M.  Barrie  by 
name,  already  a  distinguished  literary  figure  who  had 
blossomed  forth  as  a  playwright  with  ' '  Walker  London ' ' 
and  "The  Professor's  Love  Story,"  came  to  America 
for  the  first  time.  For  three  people  destined  from  this 
time  on  to  be  inseparably  entwined  in  career  and  for- 
tune, it  was  a  memorable  trip.  For  Barrie  it  meant  the 
meeting  with  Charles  Frohman,  who  was  to  be  his  great- 
est American  friend  and  producer;  for  Miss  Adams  it 
was  to  open  the  way  to  her  real  career,  and  for  Frohman 
himself  it  was  to  witness  the  beginning  of  an  intimacy 
that  was  perhaps  the  closest  of  his  life. 

Barrie's  book,  "The  Little  Minister,"  had  been  a  tre- 
mendous success,  and,  not  having  acquired  the  formality 
of  a  copyright  in  America,  the  play  pirates  were  busy 
with  it.  Frohman,  after  having  seen  the  performance 
of  "The  Professor's   Love  Story,"  had  cabled  Barrie, 

159 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

asking  him  to  make  a  play  out  of  the  charming  Scotch 
romance.  Barrie  at  first  dechned.  Frohman,  as  usual, 
was  insistent.  Then  followed  the  Scotchman's  trip  to 
America. 

Under  Frohman's  influence  he  had  begun  to  consider 
a  dramatization  of  "The  Little  Minister,"  but  the  real 
stimulus  was  lacking  because,  as  he  expressed  it  to  Froh- 
man, he  did  not  see  any  one  who  could  play  the  part  of 
Babbie. 

Now  came  one  of  those  many  unexpected  moments 
that  shape  lives.  On  a  certain  day  Barrie  dropped  into 
the  Empire  Theater  to  see  Frohman,  who  was  out. 

''Why  don't  you  stop  in  down-stairs  and  see  'Rose- 
mary'?" said  Frohman's  secretary. 

"All  right,"  said  Barrie. 

So  he  went  down  into  the  Empire  and  took  a  seat  in 
the  last  row.  An  hour  afterward  he  came  rushing  back 
to  Frohman's  office,  found  his  friend  in,  and  said  to  him, 
\  as  excitedly  as  his  Scotch  nature  would  permit : 
4  "Frohman,  I  have  found  the  woman  to  play  Babbie 
in  'The  Little  Minister' !  I  am  going  to  try  to  dramatize 
it  myself." 

"Who  is  it?'*  asked  Frohman,  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye,  for  he  knew  without  asking. 

"It  is  that  little  Miss  Adams  who  plays  Dorothy.*' 
■      "Fine!"  said  Frohman.     "I  hope  you  will  go  ahead 
*^  now  and  do  the  play." 

The  moment  toward  which  Frohman  had  looked  for 
years  was  now  at  hand.  He  might  have  launched  Miss 
Adams  at  any  time  during  the  preceding  four  or  five 
seasons.  But  he  desired  her  to  have  a  better  equipment, 
and  he  wanted  the  American  theater-going  public  to 
know  the  woman  in  whose  talents  he  felt  such  an  ex- 

i6o 


COPYRIGHT,     1914, 


)Y     CHARLES     FRO 


MAUDE  ADAMS 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

traordinary  confidence.  He  announced  with  a  suddenness 
that  was  startling,  but  which  in  reality  conveyed  no 
surprise  to  the  few  people  who  had  watched  Miss  Adams's 
career  up  to  this  time,  that  he  was  going  to  launch  her 
as  star. 

Some  of  his  friends,  however,  objected 

''Why  split  and  separate  a  good  acting  combination?** 
was  their  comment,  meaning  the  combination  of  John 
Drew  and  Miss  Adams.  To  this  objection  Frohman 
made  reply : 

*T'll  show  you  the  wisdom  of  it.  I'll  put  them  both 
on  Broadway  at  the  same  time.'* 

He  therefore  launched  Miss  Adams  in  "The  Little 
Minister"  at  the  Empire  and  booked  John  Drew  at 
Wallack's  in  "A  Marriage  of  Convenience."  His  deci- 
sion was  amply  vindicated,  for  both  scored  successes. 

Charles  Frohman  now  proceeded  to  present  Miss 
Adams  with  his  usual  lavishness.  First  of  all  he  sur- 
rounded her  with  a  superb  company.  It  was  headed  by 
Robert  Edeson,  who  played  the  title  r61e,  and  included 
Guy  Standing,  George  Fawcett,  William  H.  Thompson, 
R.  Peyton  Carter,  and  Wilfred  Buckland. 

With  ''The  Little  Minister"  Charles  Frohman  gave 
interesting  evidence  of  a  masterful  manipulation  to 
make  circumstances  meet  his  own  desires.  He  realized 
that  the  masculine  title  of  the  play  might  possibly  de- 
tract from  Miss  Adams's  prestige,  so  he  immediately 
began  to  adapt  several  important  scenes  which  might 
have  been  dominated  by  Gavin  Dishart,  the  little  minister, 
into  strong  scenes  for  his  new  limiinary.  These  changes 
were  made,  of  course,  with  Barrie's  consent,  and  added 
much  to  the  strength  of  the  r61e  of  Lady  Babbie. 

i6i 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

To  the  mastery  of  the  part  of  Lady  Babbie  Maude 
Adams  now  consecrated  herself  with  a  fidehty  of  purpose 
which  was  very  characteristic  of  her.  Then,  as  always, 
she  asked  herself  the  question: 

"What  will  this  character  mean  to  the  people  who 
see  it?" 

In  other  words,  here,  as  throughout  all  her  career, 
she  put  herself  in  the  position  of  her  audience.  She  de- 
voted many  weeks  to  a  study  of  Scotch  dialect.  She  fairly 
lived  in  a  Scotch  atmosphere.  One  of  her  friends  of  that 
time  accused  her  of  subsisting  on  a  diet  of  Scotch  broth. 

As  was  his  custom,  Frohman  gave  the  piece  an  out- 
of-town  try-out.  It  opened  on  September  13,  1897,  a 
date  memorable  in  the  Charles  Frohman  narrative,  in 
the  La  Fayette  Square  Opera  House  in  Washington. 
It  was  an  intolerably  hot  night,  and,  added  to  the 
discomfort  of  the  heat,  there  was  considerable  uncer- 
tainty about  the  success  of  the  venture  itself.  This 
was  not  due  to  a  lack  of  confidence  in  Miss  Adams, 
but  to  the  feeling  that  the  play  was  excessively  Scotch. 
A  brilliant  audience,  including  many  people  prominent 
in  public  life,  witnessed  the  debut  and  seemed  most 
friendly. 

Miss  Adams  regarded  the  first  night  as  a  failure. 
Financially  the  play  limped  along  for  a  week,  for  the  gross 
receipts  were  only  $3,500.  Yet  when  the  play  opened 
in  New  York  two  weeks  later  it  was  a  spectacular  suc- 
cess from  the  start. 

Here  is  another  curious  example  of  the  importance  of 
the  New  York  verdict.  ''Hazel  Kirke,"  which  became 
one  of  the  historic  successes  of  the  American  stage, 
tottered  along  haltingly  for  weeks  in  Philadelphia, 
Washington,    and    Baltimore.      In    the    Quaker    City, 

162 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

*' Barbara  Fritchie,"  with  Julia  Marlowe  in  the  title 
role,  came  dangerously  near  closing  because  of  discour- 
aging business.  Yet  she  came  to  New  York,  and  with  the 
exception  of  "When  Knighthood  was  in  Flower,"  regis- 
tered the  greatest  popular  triumph  she  has  ever  known. 
This  was  now  the  case  with  "The  Little  Minister." 

Miss  Adams  was  irresistible  as  Lady  Babbie.  As  the 
quaint,  slyly  humorous,  make-believe  gipsy,  she  found 
full  play  for  all  her  talents,  and  she  captured  her  audience 
almost  with  her  first  speech. 

Charles  Frohman  sat  nervously  in  the  wings  during 
the  performance.  When  the  curtain  went  down  his 
new  star  said  to  him : 

"How  did  it  go?" 

"Splendidly,"  was  his  laconic  comment. 

"The  Little  Minister"  ran  at  the  Empire  for  three 
hundred  consecutive  performances,  two  hundred  and 
eighty-nine  of  which  were  to  "standing  room  only." 
The  total  gross  receipts  for  the  engagement  were  $370,000 
— a  record  for  that  time. 

On  the  last  night  of  the  run  Miss  Adams  received  the 
following  cablegram  from  Barrie: 

Thank  you,  thank  you  all  for  your  brilliant 
achievement,    ''What  a  glory  to  our  kirk.'' 

Barrie. 

Maude  Adams  was  now  launched  as  a  profitable  and 
successful  star.  Like  many  other  conscientious  and  ideal- 
istic interpreters  of  the  drama,  she  had  a  great  reverence 
for  Shakespeare,  and  she  burned  with  a  desire  to  play 
in  one  of  the  great  bard's  plays.  Charles  Frohman 
knew  this.  Then,  as  always,  one  of  his  supreme  ambi- 
tions in  life  was  to  gratify  her  every  wish,  so  he  an- 

163 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

nounced  that  he  would  present  her  in  a  special  all-star 
production  of  ** Romeo  and  Juliet." 

Charles  Frohman  himself  was  always  frank  enough  to 
say  that  he  had  no  great  desire  to  produce  Shakespeare. 
He  lived  in  the  dramatic  activities  of  his  day.  It  was 
shortly  before  this  time  that  his  brother  Daniel,  entering 
his  office  one  day,  found  him  reading. 

**I  am  reading  a  new  book,"  he  said;  "that  is,  new 
to  me." 

"What  is  that?"  was  the  query? 

"'Romeo  and  Juliet,'"  he  replied. 

When  Maude  Adams  dropped  the  role  of  Babbie  to 
assume  that  of  Juliet  some  people  thought  the  transfer 
a  daring  one,  to  say  the  least.  Even  Miss  Adams  was  a 
little  nervous.  Not  so  Frohman.  To  him  Shakespeare 
was  simply  a  pla3rwright  like  Clyde  Fitch  or  Augustus 
Thomas,  with  the  additional  advantage  that  he  was 
dead,  and  therefore,  as  there  were  no  royalties  to  pay, 
he  could  put  the  money  into  the  production. 

When  Frohman  went  to  rehearsal  one  day  he  noticed 
that  the  company  seemed  a  trifle  nervous. 

"What's  up?"  he  asked,  abruptly. 

Some  one  told  him  that  the  players  were  fearful  lest 
all  the  details  of  the  costume  and  play  should  not  be 
carried  out  in  strict  accordance  with  history. 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  Frohman.  "Who's  Shake- 
speare? He  was  just  a  man.  He  won't  hurt  you.  I 
don't  see  any  Shakespeare.  Just  imagine  you're  looking 
at  a  soldier,  home  from  the  Cuban  war,  making  love  to 
a  giggling  school-girl  on  a  balcony.  That's  all  I  see,  and 
that's  the  way  I  want  it  played.  Dismiss  all  idea  of 
costume.    Be  modem.'* 

The  production  of  "Romeo" and  Juliet"  was  super- 

164 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

vised  by  William  Seymour.  It  was  rehearsed  in  two  sec- 
tions. One  half  of  the  cast  was  in  New  York,  with  Faver- 
sham  and  Hackett;  the  other  was  on  tour  with  Miss 
Adams  in  "The  Little  Minister."  Seymour  divided  his 
time  between  the  two  wings,  with  the  omnipresent 
spirit  of  Frohman  over  it  all. 

Miss  Adams  had  made  an  exhaustive  study  of  the 
part.  After  his  first  conference  with  her,  Seymour 
wrote  to  Frohman  as  follows: 

I  thought  I  knew  my  Shakespeare^  hut  Miss 
Adams  has  opened  up  a  new  and  most  wonderful 
field.  An  hour  with  her  has  given  me  more  inspi- 
ration and  ideas  than  twenty  years  oj  personal 
experience  with  it. 

As  usual,  Frohman  surrounded  Miss  Adams  with  a 
magnificent  cast.  William  Faversham  played  Romeo; 
James  K.  Hackett  was  Mercutio;  W.  H.  Thompson 
was  Friar  Lawrence;  Orrin  Johnson  played  Paris;  R. 
Peyton  Carter  was  Peter.  Others  in  the  company  were 
Campbell  GoUan  and  Eugene  Jepson. 

"Romeo  and  Juliet"  was  produced  at  the  Empire 
Theater  May  8,  1899,  and  was  a  distinguished  artistic 
success.  Miss  Adams's  Juliet  was  appealing,  romantic, 
lovely.  It  touched  the  chords  of  all  her  gentle  womanli- 
ness and  gave  the  character,  so  far  as  the  American 
stage  was  concerned,  a  new  tradition  of  youthful  charm. 

A  unique  feature  of  the  first  night's  performance  of 
"Romeo  and  Juliet "  was  the  presence  of  Mary  Anderson. 
This  distinguished  actress,  who  had  just  arrived  from 
London  for  a  brief  visit,  expressed  a  desire  to  see  the 
new  Juliet,  and  to  feel  once  more  the  thrill  of  a  Broad- 
way first  night.     Miss  Anderson  herself  had,  of  course, 

i6s 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

achieved  great  distinction  as  Juliet.  She  was  regarded, 
in  her  day,  as  the  physical  and  romantic  ideal  of  the  role. 

When  her  desire  to  see  the  play  was  communicated 
to  Charles,  it  was  found  that  every  box  had  been  sold 
except  the  one  reserved  for  his  sisters.  He  therefore 
purchased  this  from  them  with  a  check  for  $200. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  performance  Miss  Anderson 
was  introduced  to  Miss  Adams,  and  congratulated  her 
on  her  success. 

It  was  in  1900  that  Miss  Adams  first  played  the  part 
of  a  boy,  a  type  of  character  that,  before  many  years 
would  pass,  was  to  give  her  a  great  success.  Her  debut 
as  a  lad,  however,  was  under  the  most  brilliantly  artistic 
circimistances,  because  it  was  in  Edmond  Rostand's 
**LAiglon,"  adapted  in  EngHsh  by  Louis  N.  Parker. 
As  the  young  Eaglet,  son  of  the  great  Napoleon,  she  had 
fresh  opportunity  to  display  her  versatility.  It  was  a 
character  in  which  romance,  pathos,  and  tragedy  were 
curiously  entwined.  Bernhardt  had  done  it  successfully 
in  Paris,  but  Miss  Adams  brought  to  it  the  fidelity  and 
brilliancy  of  youth.  In  ''LAiglon"  she  was  supported 
by  Edwin  Arden,  Oswald  Yorke,  Eugene  Jepson,  J.  H. 
Gilmour,  and  R.  Peyton  Carter. 

When  Charles  Frohman  put  Miss  Adams  into  ' '  Romeo 
and  Juliet"  she  received  a  whimsical  letter  from  J.  M. 
Barrie,  saying,  among  other  things: 

Are  you  going  to  take  Willie  Shakespeare  by 
the  arm  and  Vave  me? 

The  time  was  now  at  hand  when  she  once  more  took 
the  fascinating  Scot  by  the  arm.     She  now  appeared 

166 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

in  his  ''Quality  Street/'  a  new  play  with  the  real  Barrie 
charm,  in  which  she  took  the  part  of  an  exquisite  Eng- 
lish girl  whose  betrothed  goes  to  the  Napoleonic  wars. 
She  thinks  he  has  forgotten  her,  and  allows  herself  to 
externally  fade  into  spinsterhood.  When  he  comes  back 
he  does  not  recognize  her.  Then  she  suddenly  blooms 
into  exquisite  youth — radiant  and  beguiling — and  he 
discovers  that  it  is  his  old  love. 

"Quality  Street"  was  tried  out  in  Toledo,  Ohio,  early 
in  the  season  of  1901.  On  the  opening  night  an  incident 
occurred  which  showed  Frohman's  attitude  toward  new 
plays.  The  third  act  dragged  somewhat  toward  the 
end,  evidently  on  account  of  an  anti-climax.  On  the 
following  day  Frohman  asked  his  business  manager  to 
sit  with  him  during  the  third  act,  saying: 

*'Last  night  Miss  Adams  played  this  act  as  Barrie 
wrote  it.    This  afternoon  she  will  play  it  as  I  want  it.'* 

The  act  went  much  more  effectively,  and  it  was  never 
changed  after  that  matinee  performance. 

"Quality  Street"  was  another  of  what  came  to  be 
known  as  a  typical  "Adams  success." 

For  her  next  starring  vehicle,  Charles  presented 
Maude  Adams  in  "The  Pretty  Sister  of  Jose,"  a  play 
which  Mrs.  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett  made  of  her 
well-known  story.  She  was  supported  by  Harry  Ainley, 
at  that  time  England's  great  matinee  idol.  Here  Miss 
Adams  encountered  for  the  first  time  something  that 
resembled  failure,  because  she  was  not  adapted  to  the 
fiery,  passionate  character  of  the  impetuous  Spanish 
girl.  The  play,  however,  made  its  usual  tour  after  the 
local  season,  and  with  much  financial  success. 

The  tour  ended.  Miss  Adams  suddenly  disappeared 
from  sight.    There  were  even  rumors  that  she  had  left 

167 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

the  stage.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  retired  to  the 
seclusion  of  a  convent  at  Tours,  in  France.  There 
were  two  definite  reasons  for  her  retirement.  One  was 
that  she  wanted  time  for  convalescence  from  an  opera- 
tion for  appendicitis;  the  other,  that  she  wished  to  per- 
fect her  French  in  order  to  fulfil  a  long-cherished  desire 
to  play  Juliet  to  Sarah  Bernhardt's  Romeo.  Unfortu- 
nately, this  plan  was  never  consvmimated,  but  it  gave 
Miss  Adams  a  very  rare  experience,  for  she  lived  with 
the  simple  French  nuns  for  months.  Later,  when  they 
were  driven  from  France,  she  found  them  quarters 
near  Birmingham,  in  England,  saw  to  their  comfort, 
and  got  them  buyers  for  their  lace. 

Brilliant  as  had  been  Miss  Adams's  success  up  to  this 
time,  the  moment  was  now  at  hand  when  she  was  to 
appear  in  the  r61e  that,  more  than  all  her  other  parts 
combined,  would  complete  her  conquest  of  the  American 
heart.  Once  more  she  became  a  boy,  this  time  the 
irresistible  Peter  Pan. 

As  Peter  Pan  she  literally  flew  into  a  new  fame.  This 
play  of  Barrie's  provided  Frohman  with  one  of  the 
many  sensations  he  loved,  and  perhaps  no  production 
of  the  many  htmdreds  that  he  made  in  his  long  career 
as  manager  gave  him  quite  so  much  pleasure  as  the 
presentation  of  the  fascinating  little  Boy  Who  Never 
Would  Grow  Up. 

The  very  beginning  of  "Peter  Pan,"  so  far  as  the 
stage  presentation  was  concerned,  was  full  of  romantic 
interest.  Barrie  had  agreed  to  write  a  play  for  Frohman, 
and  met  him  at  dinner  one  night  at  the  Garrick  Club 
in  London.   Barrie  seemed  nervous  and  ill  at  ease. 

''What's  the  matter?"  said  Charles. 

i68 


MAUDE   ADAMS    AS    STAR 

*' Simply  this,"  said  Barrie.  "You  know  I  have  an 
agreement  to  deliver  you  the  manuscript  of  a  play?" 

"Yes,"  said  Frohman. 

"Well,  I  have  it,  all  right,"  said  Barrie,  "but  I  am 
sure  it  will  not  be  a  commercial  success.  But  it  is  a 
dream-child  of  mine,  and  I  am  so  anxious  to  see  it  on  the 
stage  that  I  have  written  another  play  which  I  will  be 
glad  to  give  you  and  which  will  compensate  you  for  any 
loss  on  the  one  I  am  so  eager  to  see  produced." 

"Don't  bother  about  that,"  said  Frohman.  "I  will 
produce  both  plays." 

Now  the  extraordinary  thing  about  this  episode  is 
that  the  play  about  whose  success  Barrie  was  so  doubt- 
ful was  "Peter  Pan,"  which  made  several  fortunes. 
The  manuscript  he  offered  Frohman  to  indemnify  him 
from  loss  was  "Alice-Sit-By-The-Fire,"  which  lasted 
only  a  season.  Such  is  the  estimate  that  the  author  often 
puts  on  his  own  work ! 

When  Frohman  first  read  "Peter  Pan"  he  was  so 
entranced  that  he  could  not  resist  telling  all  his  friends 
about  it.  He  would  stop  them  in  the  street  and  act  out 
the  scenes.  Yet  it  required  the  most  stupendous  cour- 
age and  confidence  to  put  on  a  play  that,  from  the 
manuscript,  sounded  like  a  combination  of  circus  and 
extravaganza;  a  play  in  which  children  flew  in  and  out 
of  rooms,  crocodiles  swallowed  alarm-clocks,  a  man 
exchanged  places  with  his  dog  in  its  kennel,  and  various 
other  seemingly  absurd  and  ridiculous  things  happened. 

But  Charles  believed  in  Barrie.  He  had  gone  to  an 
extraordinary  expense  to  produce  "Peter  Pan"  in  Eng- 
land. He  duplicated  it  in  the  United  States.  No  other 
character  in  all  her  repertory  made  such  a  swift  appeal 
to  Miss  Adams  as  Peter  Pan.  She  saw  in  him  the  idealiza- 

12  169 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

tion  of  everything  that  was  wonderful  and  wistful  in 
childhood. 

The  way  she  prepared  for  the  part  was  characteristic 
of  her  attitude  toward  her  work.  She  took  the  manu- 
script with  her  up  to  the  Catskills.  She  isolated  herself 
for  a  month;  she  walked,  rode,  communed  with  nature, 
but  all  the  while  she  was  studying  and  absorbing  the 
character  which  was  to  mean  so  much  to  her  career. 
In  the  great  friendly  open  spaces  in  which  little  Peter 
himself  delighted,  and  where  he  was  king,  she  found 
her  inspiration  for  interpretation  of  the  wondrous  boy. 

The  try-out  was  made  in  Washington  at  the  old 
National  Theater.  It  went  with  considerable  success, 
although  the  first-night  audience  was  somewhat  mysti- 
fied and  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  say  or  do. 

It  was  when  the  play  was  launched  on  November  6, 
1905,  at  the  Empire  Theater  in  New  York,  that  little 
Peter  really  came  into  his  own.    The  human  birds,  the 
droll  humor,  the  daring  allegory,  above  all  the  appealing, 
almost  tragic,  spectacle  of  Peter  playing  his  pipe  up  in 
the  tree-tops  of  the  Never-Never  Land,  all  contributed 
\  to  an  event  that  was  memorable  in  more  ways  than  one. 
\     On  this  night  developed  the  remarkable  and  thrilling 
feature  in  "Peter  Pan"  which  made  the  adorable  dream- 
child  the  best  beloved  of  all  American  children.     It 
came  when  Peter  rushed  forward  to  the  footlights  in 
the  frantic  attempt  to  save  the  life  of  his  devoted  little 
Tinker  Bell,  and  asked : 
\  "Do  you  believe  in  fairies?'* 

It  registered  a  whole  new  and  intimate  relation  be- 
tween actress  and  audience,  and  had  the  play  possessed 
no  other  distinctive  feature,  this  alone  would  have  at 
once  lifted  it  to  a  success  that  was  all  its  own. 

170 


MAUDE  ADAMS 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

This  episode  became  one  of  the  many  marvelous 
features  of  the  memorable  run  of  "Peter  Pan"  at  the 
Empire.  Nearly  every  child  in  New  York — and  sub- 
sequently, on  the  long  and  successful  tours  that  Miss 
Adams  made  in  "Peter  Pan,"  their  brothers  everywhere 
— became  acquainted  with  the  episode  and  longed  im- 
patiently to  have  a  part  in  it.  On  one  occasion,  fully 
fifteen  minutes  before  Miss  Adams  made  her  appeal, 
a  little  child  rose  in  a  box  at  the  Empire  and  said: 
"7  believe  in  fairies." 

"Peter  Pan"  recorded  the  longest  single  engagement 
in  the  history  of  the  Empire.  It  ran  from  November 
6,  1905,  until  June  9,  1906. 

But  "Peter  Pan"  did  more  than  give  Miss  Adams  her 
most  popular  part.  It  became  a  nation-wide  vogue. 
Children  were  named  after  the  fascinating  little  lad  Who 
Never  Would  Grow  Up ;  articles  of  wearing-apparel  were 
labeled  with  his  now  familiar  title;  the  whole  country 
talked  and  loved  the  unforgetable  little  character  who 
now  became  not  merely  a  stage  figure,  but  a  real  per- 
sonal friend  of  the  American  theater-going  people. 

It  was  on  a  road  tour  of  "Peter  Pan"  that  occurred 
one  of  those  rare  anecdotes  in  which  Miss  Adams  fig- 
ures. Frohman  always  had  a  curious  prejudice  against 
the  playing  of  matinees  by  his  stars,  especially  Maude 
Adams.  A  matinee  was  booked  at  Altoona,  Pennsylvania. 
Frohman  immediately  had  it  marked  off  his  contract. 
The  advance-agent  of  the  company,  however,  ordered 
the  matinee  played  at  the  urgent  request  of  the  local 
manager,  but  he  did  not  notify  the  office  in  New  York. 
When  Charles  got  the  telegram  announcing  the  receipts, 
he  was  most  indignant.  "I'll  discharge  the  person 
responsible  for  this  matinee,"  he  said. 

171 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

In  answer  to  his  telegraphed  inquiry  he  received  the 
following  wire : 

The  matinee  was  played  at  my  request.  I  pre- 
ferred to  work  rather  than  spend  the  whole  day 
in  a  had  hotel, 

Maude  Adams. 

In  connection  with  ** Peter  Pan"  is  a  curious  and  tragic 
coincidence.  Of  all  the  Barrie  plays  that  Charles  pro- 
duced he  loved  ** Peter  Pan"  the  best.  Curiously 
enough,  it  was  little  Peter  himself  who  gave  him  the 
cue  for  his  now  historic  farewell  as  he  stood  on  the 
sinking  deck  of  the  Lusitania. 

At  the  end  of  one  of  the  acts  in  "Peter  Pan"  the  little 
boy  says: 

To  die  will  be  an  awfully  big  adventure. 

These  words  had  always  made  a  deep  impression  on 
Frohman.  They  came  to  his  mind  as  he  stood  on  that 
fateful  deck  and  said: 

Why  fear  death?  It  is  the  most  beautiful 
adventure  in  life. 

Having  made  such  an  enormous  success  with  ''Peter 
Pan,"  Miss  Adams  now  turned  to  her  third  boy's  part. 
It  was  that  of  "Chicot,  the  Jester,"  John  Raphael's 
adaptation  of  Miguel  Zamaceis's  play  "The  Jesters." 
This  was  a  very  delightful  sort  of  Prince  Charming 
play,  fragile  and  artistic.  The  opposite  part  was  played 
by  Consuelo  Bailey.  It  was  a  great  triumph  for  Miss 
Adams,  but  not  a  very  great  financial  success. 

Now  came  the  first  of  her  open-air  performances. 

172 


MAUDE   ADAMS    AS    STAR 

During  the  season  of  ''The  Jesters"  she  appeared  at 
Yale  and  Harvard  as  Viola  in  ''Twelfth  Night."  She 
gave  a  charming  and  graceful  performance  of  the  role. 

But  Maude  Adams  could  not  linger  long  from  the 
lure  that  was  Barrie's.  After  what  amounted  to  the 
practical  failure  of  "The  Jesters"  she  turned  to  her 
fourth  Barrie  play,  which  proved  to  be  a  triumph. 

For  over  a  year  Barrie  had  been  at  work  on  a  play 
for  her.  It  came  forth  in  his  whimsical  satire,  "What 
Every  Woman  Knows."  Afterward,  in  speaking  of  this 
play,  he  said  that  he  had  written  it  because  "there  was 
a  Maude  Adams  in  the  world."  Then  he  added,  "I 
could  see  her  dancing  through  every  page  of  my  manu- 
script." 

Indeed,  "What  Every  Woman  Knows"  was  really 
written  around  Miss  Adams.  It  was  a  dramatization 
of  the  roguish  humor  and  exquisite  womanliness  that  are 
her  peculiar  gifts. 

As  Maggie  Wylie  she  created  a  character  that  ^-as  a 
worthy  colleague  of  Lady  Babbie.  Here  she  had  oppor- 
tunity for  her  wide  range  of  gifts.  The  role  opposite  her, 
that  of  John  Shand,  the  poor  Scotch  boy  who  literally 
stole  knowledge,  was  extraordinarily  interesting.  As 
most  people  may  recall,  the  play  involves  the  marriage 
between  Maggie  and  Jokny  according  to  an  agreement 
entered  into  between  the  girl's  brothers  and  the  boy. 
The  brothers  agree  to  educate  him,  and  in  return  he 
weds  the  sister.  Maggie  becomes  John's  inspiration, 
although  he  refuses  to  realize  or  admit  it.  He  is  abso- 
lutely without  humor.  He  thinks  he  can  do  without 
her,  only  to  find  when  it  is  almost  too  late  that  she  has 
been  the  very  prop  of  his  success. 

173 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

At  the  end  of  this  play  Maggie  finally  makes  her  hus- 
band laugh  when  she  tells  him: 

I  tell  you  what  every  woman  knows:  that  Eve 
wasn't  made  from  the  rib  of  Adam,  but  from  his 
funny-bone. 

This  speech  had  a  wide  vogue  and  was  quoted  every- 
where. 

Curiously  enough,  in  "What  Every  Woman  Knows" 
Miss  Adams  has  a  speech  in  which  she  unconsciously 
defines  the  one  peculiar  and  elusive  gift  which  gives 
her  such  rare  distinction.  In  the  play  she  is  supposed 
to  be  the  girl  "who  has  no  charm."  In  reahty  she  is 
all  charm.  But  in  discussing  this  quality  with  her 
brothers  she  makes  this  statement: 

Charm  is  the  bloom  upon  a  woman.  If  you  have 
it  you  don't  have  to  have  anything  else.  If  you 
haven't  it,  all  else  won't  do  you  any  good. 

"What  Every  Woman  Knows"  was  an  enormous  suc- 
cess, in  which  Richard  Bennett,  who  played  John 
Shand,  shared  honors  with  the  star.  Miss  Adams's 
achievement  in  this  play  emphasized  the  rare  affinity 
between  her  and  Barrie's  delightful  art.  They  formed 
a  unique  and  lovable  combination,  irresistible  in  its 
appeal  to  the  pubHc.  Commenting  on  this,  Barrie 
himself  has  said: 

Miss  Adams  knows  my  characters  and  under- 
stands them.  She  really  needs  no  directions.  I  love 
to  write  for  her  and  see  her  in  my  work. 

Nor  could  there  be  any  more  delightful  comment  on 
Miss  Adams's  appreciation  of  all  that  Barrie  has  meant 

174 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

to  her  than  to  quote  a  remark  she  made  not  so  very 
long  ago  when  she  said: 

Wherever  I  act,  I  always  feel  that  there  is  one 
unseen  spectator,  James  M.  Barrie. 

Maude  Adams  was  now  in  what  most  people,  both 
in  and  out  of  the  theatrical  profession,  would  think  the 
very  zenith  of  her  career.  She  was  the  best  beloved 
of  American  actresses,  the  idol  of  the  American  child. 
She  was  without  doubt  the  best  box-office  attraction  in 
the  country.  Yet  she  had  made  her  way  to  this  emi- 
nence by  an  industry  and  a  concentration  that  were 
well-nigh  incredible. 

People  began  to  say,  "What  marvelous  things  Charles 
Frohman  has  done  for  Miss  Adams." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  career  of  Miss  Adams  empha- 
sizes what  a  very  great  author  once  said,  which,  summed 
up,  was  that  neither  nature  nor  man  did  anything 
for  any  human  being  that  he  could  not  do  for  himself. 

Miss  Adams  paid  the  penalty  of  her  enormous  success 
by  an  almost  complete  isolation.  She  concentrated 
on  her  work — all  else  was  subsidiary. 

Charles  Frohman  had  an  enormous  ambition  for  Miss 
Adams,  and  that  ambition  now  took  form  in  what  was 
perhaps  his  most  remarkable  effort  in  connection  with 
her.  It  was  the  production  of  ''Joan  of  Arc"  at  the 
Harvard  Stadium.    It  started  in  this  way: 

John  D.  Williams,  for  many  years  business  manager 
for  Charles  Frohman,  is  a  Harvard  alumnus.  Realizing 
that  the  business  with  which  he  was  associated  had  been 
labeled  with  the  "commercial"  brand,  he  had  an  ambi- 
tion to  associate  it  with  something  which  would  be 
considered  genuinely  esthetic.     The  pageant  idea  had 

175 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

suddenly  come  into  vogue.  '  *  Why  not  give  a  magnificent 
pageant?"  he  said  to  himself. 

One  morning  he  went  into  Charles  Frohman's  office 
and  put  the  idea  to  him,  adding  that  he  thought  Miss 
Adams  as  Joan  of  Arc  would  provide  the  proper  medium 
for  such  a  spectacle.  Frohman  was  about  to  go  to 
Europe.  With  a  quick  wave  of  the  hand  and  a  swift 
"All  right,"  he  assented  to  what  became  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  events  in  the  history  of  the  American 
stage. 

Schiller's  great  poem,  "The  Maid  of  Orleans,"  was 
selected.  In  suggesting  the  battle  heroine  of  France, 
Williams  touched  upon  one  of  Maude  Adams's  great 
admirations.  For  years  she  had  studied  the  character 
of  Joan.  To  her  Joan  was  the  very  idealization  of  all 
womanhood.  Bernhardt,  Davenport,  and  others  had 
tried  to  dramatize  this  most  appealing  of  all  tragedies 
in  the  history  of  France,  and  had  practically  failed.  It 
remained  for  slight,  almost  fragile,  Maude  Adams  to 
vivify  and  give  the  character  an  enduring  interpretation. 

"Joan  of  Arc,"  as  the  pageant  was  called,  was  pro- 
jected on  a  stupendous  scale.  Fifteen  hundred  super- 
numeraries were  employed.  John  W.  Alexander,  the 
famous  artist,  was  employed  to  design  the  costumes. 
A  special  electric-lighting  plant  was  installed  in  the 
stadium. 

Miss  Adams  concentrated  herself  upon  the  prepara- 
tions with  a  fidelity  and  energy  that  were  little  short 
of  amazing.  One  detail  will  illustrate.  As  most  people 
know,  Miss  Adams  had  to  appear  mounted  several 
times  during  the  play  and  ride  at  the  head  of  her  charg- 
ing army. 

This  equestrianism  gave  Charles  Frohman  the  greatest 

176 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

solicitude.  He  feared  that  she  would  be  injured  in  some 
way,  and  he  kept  cabling  warnings  to  her,  and  to  her 
associates  who  were  responsible  for  her  safety,  to  be 
careful. 

Miss  Adams,  however,  determined  to  be  a  good  horse- 
woman, and  for  more  than  a  month  she  practised  every 
afternoon  in  a  riding-academy  in  New  York.  Since  the 
horse  had  to  carry  the  trappings  of  clanging  armor,  amid 
all  the  tumult  of  battle,  she  rehearsed  every  day  with 
all  sorts  of  noisy  apparatus  hanging  about  him.  Shots 
were  fired,  colored  banners  and  flags  were  flaunted 
about  her,  and  pieces  of  metal  were  fastened  to  her  rid- 
ing-skirt so  that  the  steed  would  be  accustomed  to  the 
constant  contact  of  a  sword. 

Although  the  preparations  for  her  own  part  were  most 
exacting  and  onerous.  Miss  Adams  exercised  a  super- 
vising direction  over  the  whole  production,  which  was 
done  in  the  most  lavish  fashion.  She  had  every  resource 
of  the  Charles  Frohman  organization  at  her  command, 
and  it  was  employed  to  the  very  last  detail. 

*'Joan  of  Arc"  was  presented  on  the  evening  of  June 
2  2,  1909,  in  the  presence  of  over  fifteen  thousand  people. 
It  was  a  magnificent  success,  and  proved  to  be  unques- 
tionably the  greatest  theatrical  pageant  ever  staged  in 
this  country.  The  elaborate  settings  were  handled 
mechanically.  Forests  dissolved  into  regal  courts ;  fields 
melted  into  castles.  A  hidden  orchestra  played  the 
superb  music  of  Beethoven's  "Eroica,"  which  accentu- 
ated the  noble  poetry  of  Schiller. 

The  first  scene  showed  the  maid  of  Domremy  wander- 
ing in  the  twilight  with  her  vision;  the  last  revealed 
her  dying  of  her  wounds  at  the  spring,  soon  to  be  buried 
under  the  shields  of  her  captains. 

177 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

The  battle  scene  was  an  inspiring  feature.  It  had 
been  arranged  that  Miss  Adams's  riding-master  should 
change  places  with  her  at  the  head  of  the  charging 
troops  and  ride  in  their  magnificent  sweep  down  the 
field.  It  was  feared  that  some  mishap  might  befall  her. 
When  the  charge  was  over  and  the  stage-manager  rushed 
up  to  congratulate  the  supposed  riding-master  on  his 
admirable  make-up,  he  was  surprised  to  hear  Miss 
Adams's  voice  issue  forth  from  the  armor,  saying, 
"How  did  it  go?"  Strapped  to  her  horse,  she  had  led 
the  charge  herself  and  had  seen  the  performance  through. 

"Joan  of  Arc"  netted  $15,000,  which  Charles  Frohman 
turned  over  to  Harvard  University  to  do  with  as  it 
pleased.  There  was  unconscious  irony  in  this,  for  the 
performance  aroused  great  admiration  in  Germany,  and 
the  proceeds  were  devoted  to  the  Germanic  Museum 
in  the  university;  in  the  end,  the  Germans  were  re- 
sponsible for  his  death. 

Accentuating  this  irony  was  the  fact  that  Charles 
Frohman  had  made  a  magnificent  vellum  album  con- 
taining the  complete  photographic  record  of  the  play, 
and  sent  it  to  the  German  Kaiser  with  the  following 
inscription : 

To  His  Majesty  the  German  Emperor.  This 
photographic  record  oj  the  first  English  perform- 
ance in  America  of  Friedrich  von  Schiller* s 
dramatic  poem, ''  Jungfrau  von  Orleans,''  given  for 
the  Building  Fund  of  the  Germanic  Museum  of 
Harvard  University  under  the  auspices  of  the  Ger- 
man Department  in  the  Stadium^  Tuesday, 
twenty-second  of  June,  iQog,  is.  respectfully  pre- 
sented by  Charles  Frohman. 
178 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

There  is  no  doubt  that  "Joan  of  Arc"  was  the  su- 
preme effort  of  Miss  Adams's  career.  She  was  the  Hv- 
ing,  breathing  incarnation  of  the  Maid.  When  she 
was  told  that  Charles  Frohman  had  refused  an  offer  of 
$50,000  for  the  motion-picture  rights,  she  said: 

Of  course  it  was  refused.     This  performance 
is  all  poetry  and  solemnity. 

The  following  June,  in  the  Greek  Theater  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  California,  at  Berkeley,  Miss  Adams  made 
her  first  and  only  appearance  as  Rosalind  in  **As  You 
Like  It."  Ten  thousand  people  saw  the  performance. 
Her  achievement  illustrates  the  extraordinary  and  inde- 
fatigable quality  of  her  work.  She  rehearsed  ''As  You 
Like  It"  during  her  transcontinental  tour  of  "What 
Every  Woman  Knows,"  which  extended  from  sea  to 
sea  and  lasted  thirty -nine  weeks.  • 

Most  managers  would  have  been  content  to  rest  with 
the  laurel  that  such  a  performance  as  "Joan  of  Arc"  had 
won.  Not  so  with  Charles  Frohman.  Every  stupendous 
feat  that  he  achieved  merely  whetted  his  desire  for  some- 
thing greater.  He  delighted  in  sensation.  Now  he  came 
to  the  point  in  his  life  where  he  projected  what  was  in 
many  respects  the  most  unique  and  original  of  all  his  ef- 
forts, the  presentation  of  Rostand's  classic,  "Chant ecler." 

It  was  on  March  30,  1910,  that  Charles  crossed  over 
from  London  to  Paris  to  see  this  play.  It  thrilled  and 
stirred  him,  and  he  bought  it  immediately.  He  realized 
that  it  would  either  be  a  tremendous  success  or  a  colossal 
failure,  and  he  was  willing  to  stand  or  fall  by  it.  In 
Paris  the  title  role,  originally  written  for  the  great 
Coquelin,  had  been  played  by  Guitry.    It  was  essentially 

179 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

a  man's  part.  But  Frohman,  with  that  sense  of  the  spec- 
tacular which  so  often  characterized  him,  immediately 
cast  Miss  Adams  for  it. 

When  he  announced  that  the  elf -like  girl — the  living 
Peter  Pan  to  millions  of  theater-goers — was  to  assume  the 
feathers  and  strut  of  the  barnyard  Romeo,  there  was  a 
widespread  feeling  that  he  was  making  a  great  mistake, 
and  that  he  was  putting  Miss  Adams  into  a  role,  admi- 
rable artist  that  she  was,  to  which  she  was  absolutely 
unsuited.  A  storm  of  criticism  arose.  But  Frohman 
was  absolutely  firm.  Opposition  only  made  him  hold  his 
ground  all  the  stronger.  When  people  asked  him  why 
he  insisted  upon  casting  Miss  Adams  for  this  almost 
impossible  part  he  always  said: 

''Chantecler''  is  a  play  with  a  soul,  and  the  soul 
of  a  play  is  its  moral.  This  is  the  secret  of  ''Peter 
Pan'';  this  is  why  Miss  Adams  is  to  play  the 
leading  part. 

Miss  Adams  was  in  Chicago  when  Frohman  bought 
the  play,  and  he  cabled  her  that  she  was  to  do  the  title 
part.  She  afterward  declared  that  this  news  changed 
the  dull,  dreary,  soggy  day  into  one  that  was  brilliant 
and  dazzling.  "To  play  Chantecler,''  she  said,  *'is  an 
honor  international  in  its  glory." 

The  preparations  for  "Chantecler"  were  carried  on 
with  the  usual  Frohman  magnificence.  A  fortune  was 
spent  on  it.  The  costumes  were  made  in  Paris;  John 
W.  Alexander  supervised  the  scenic  effects. 

The  casting  of  the  parts  was  in  itself  an  enormous 
task.  Frohman  amused  himself  by  having  what  he 
called  "casting  parties."  For  example,  he  would  call 
up  Miss  Adams  by  long-distance  telephone  and  say: 

i8o 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

Fve  got  ten  minutes  before  my  train  starts  jor 
Atlantic  City.    Can  you  cast  a  peacock  jor  mef 

Whereupon  Miss  Adams  would  say: 

Ten  minutes  is  too  short. 

Never,  perhaps,  in  the  history  of  the  American  stage 
was  the  advent  of  a  play  so  long  heralded.  The  name 
"Chantecler"  was  on  every  tongue.  Long  before  the 
piece  was  launched  hats  had  been  named  after  it,  con- 
troversies had  arisen  over  its  Anglicized  spelling  and  pro- 
nunciation. All  the  genius  of  pubHcity  which  was  the 
peculiar  heritage  of  Charles  Frohman  was  turned  loose 
to  pave  the  way  for  this  extraordinary  production.  It 
was  a  nation-wide  sensation. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Charles  had  to  postpone 
an  opening.  It  was  originally  set  for  the  13th  of  January, 
191 1,  but  the  first  night  did  not  come  until  the  23d. 
This  added  to  the  suspense  and  expectancy  of  the 
public. 

The  demand  for  seats  was  unprecedented.  A  line  be- 
gan to  form  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  preceding 
the  day  the  sale  opened.  Within  twenty-four  hours 
after  the  window  was  raised  at  the  box-office  as  high 
as  $200  was  offered  in  vain  for  a  seat  on  the  opening 
night. 

The  Empire  stage  was  too  small,  so  the  play  was 
produced  at  the  Knickerbocker  Theater.  A  brilHant 
and  highly  wrought-up  audience  was  present.  Ex- 
traordinary interest  centered  about  Miss  Adams's  per- 
formance as  Chantecler.  "Will  she  be  able  to  do  it?" 
was  the  question  on  every  tongue.  On  that  memorable 
opening-night  Frohman,  as  usual,  sat  in  the  back  seat 

181 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

in  the  gallery  and  had  the  supreme  satisfaction  of  seeing 
his  star  distinguish  herself  in  a  performance  that  in 
many  respects  revealed  Miss  Adams  as  she  had  never 
been  revealed  before.  She  was  recalled  twenty-two 
times. 

Chantecler  literally  crowed  and  conquered! 

Just  how  much  **  Chantecler "  meant  to  Charles 
Frohman  is  attested  by  a  remark  he  made  soon  after 
its  inaugtiral.  A  friend  was  discussing  epitaphs  with 
him. 

''What  would  you  like  to  have  written  about  you, 
C.  F.?"  asked  the  man. 

The  brilliant  smile  left  Frohman's  face  for  a  moment, 
and  then  he  said,  solemnly : 

"All  that  I  would  ask  is  this:  'He  gave  "Peter  Pan" 
to  the  world  and  "Chantecler"  to  America.'  It  is 
enough  for  any  man." 

The  last  original  production  that  Charles  Frohman 
made  with  Maude  Adams  was  "The  Legend  of  Leonora," 
in  which  she  returned  once  more  to  Barrie's  exquisite 
and  fanciful  satire,  devoted  this  time  to  the  woman 
question.  In  England  it  had  been  produced  under  the 
title  of  "The  Adored  One." 

It  was  in  the  part  of  Leonora  that  James  M.  Barrie 
saw  Maude  Adams  act  for  the  first  time  in  one  of  his 
plays.  He  had  come  to  America  for  a  brief  visit  to  Froh- 
man, and  during  this  period  Miss  Adams  was  having 
her  annual  engagement  at  the  Empire  Theater. 

Of  course,  Barrie  had  Miss  Adams  in  mind  for  the 
American  production,  and  it  is  a  very  interesting  com- 
mentary on  his  admiration  for  the  American  star  that 
about  the  only  instructions  he  attached  to  the  manu- 
script of  the  play  was  this : 

182 


MAUDE    ADAMS    AS    STAR 

Leonora  is  an  unspeakable  darling ,  and  this 
is  all  the  guidance  that  can  he  given  to  the  lady 
playing  her. 

On  her  last  starring  tour  under  the  personal  direction 
of  Charles  Frohman,  Miss  Adams  combined  with  a  re- 
vival of  ''Quality  Street"  a  clever  skit  by  Barrie  called 
"The  Ladies'  Shakespeare,"  the  subtitle  being,  **One 
Woman's  Reading  of  'The  Taming  of  the  Shrew.' "  With 
an  occasional  appearance  in  Barrie 's  "Rosalind,"  it 
rounded  out  her  stellar  career  under  him. 

Charles  Frohman  Hved  to  see  Maude  Adams  realize 
his  highest  desire  for  her  success.  She  justified  his  con- 
fidence and  it  gave  him  infinite  satisfaction. 

Miss  Adams's  career  as  a  star  unfolds  a  panorama  of 
artistic  and  practical  achievement  unequaled  in  the  Hfe 
of  any  American  star.  It  likewise  reveals  a  paradox  all 
its  own.  While  millions  of  people  have  seen  and  admired 
her,  only  a  handful  of  people  know  her.  The  aloofness 
of  the  woman  in  her  personal  attitude  toward  the 
public  represents  Charles  Frohman 's  own  ideal  of  what 
stage  artistry  and  conduct  should  be. 

It  is  illustrated  in  what  was  perhaps  the  keenest  epi- 
gram he  ever  made.  He  was  talking  about  people  of 
the  stage  who  constantly  air  themselves  and  their 
views  to  secure  personal  publicity.  It  moved  him  to 
this  remark : 

"Some  people  prefer  mediocrity  in  the  limelight  to 
greatness  in  the  dark.'* 

Herein  he  summed  up  the  reason  why  Miss  Adams 
has  been  an  elusive  and  almost  mysterious  figure.  By 
tremendous  reading,  solitary  thinking,  and  extraordinary 
personal   application   she  rose  to  her  great  eminence. 

183 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

With  her  it  has  always  been  a  creed  of  career  first.  Like 
Charles  Frohman,  she  has  hidden  behind  her  activities, 
and  they  form  a  worthy  rampart. 

The  history  of  the  stage  records  no  more  interesting 
parallel  than  the  one  afforded  by  these  two  people — 
each  a  recluse,  yet  each  known  to  the  multitudes. 


IX 

THE    BIRTH    OF   THE    SYNDICATE 

^  HARLES  FROHMAN'S  talents  and  energies  were 
(  very  much  like  those  of  E.  H.  Harriman  in  that 
they  found  their  largest  and  best  expression  when 
dedicated  to  a  multitude  of  enterprises.  Like  Harriman, 
too,  he  did  things  in  a  wholesale  way,  for  he  had  a  con- 
tempt for  small  sums  and  small  ventures. 

Going  back  a  little  in  point  of  time  from  the  close 
of  the  preceding  chapter,  the  final  years  of  the  last 
century  found  Frohman  geared  up  to  a  myriad  of  activi- 
ties. He  had  already  assumed  the  role  of  Star-Maker, 
for  Drew  and  Gillette  were  on  his  roster,  and  Maude 
Adams  was  about  to  be  launched;  the  Empire  Stock 
Company  was  an  accredited  institution  with  a  national 
influence ;  he  had  started  a  chain  of  theaters ;  his  booking 
interests  in  the  West  had  assumed  the  proportions  of  an 
immense  business ;  he  had  begun  to  make  his  presence  felt 
in  London.  Yet  no  event  of  these  middle  'nineties  was 
more  momentous  in  its  relation  to  the  future  of  the 
whole  American  theater  than  one  which  was  about  to 
transpire — one  in  which  Charles  Frohman  had  an  im- 
portant hand. 

Despite  the  efforts  made  by  the  booking  offices  con- 
ducted by  Charles  Frohman  and  Klaw  &  Erlanger,  the 
making  of  routes  for  theatrical  attractions  in  the  United 
13  i8s 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

States  was  in  a  most  disorganized  and  economically 
unsound  condition.  The  local  manager  was  still  more 
or  less  at  the  mercy  of  the  booking  free-lance  in  New 
York.  The  booking  agent  himself  only  represented  a 
comparatively  few  theaters  and  could  not  book  a  com- 
plete season  for  a  traveling  attraction. 

In  New  York  the  manager  was  an  autocrat  who  fre- 
quently dictated  unbelievable  terms  to  the  traveling 
companies.  Immense  losses  resulted  from  small  traveling 
companies  being  pitted  against  one  another  in  provincial 
towns  that  could  only  support  one  first-class  attraction. 
Most  theatrical  contracts  were  not  worth  the  paper 
they  were  written  on. 

Charles  Frohman  had  first  counted  the  cost  of  this 
theatrical  demoralization  when  his  great  "Shenandoah" 
run  at  the  old  Star  Theater  had  to  be  interrupted  while 
playing  to  capacity  because  another  attraction  had  been 
booked  into  that  theater.  He  and  all  his  representative 
colleagues  in  the  business  realized  that  some  steps  must 
be  taken  to  rectify  the  situation.  Piled  on  this  was  the 
general  business  depression  that  had  followed  the  panic 
of  1893. 
-X  One  day  in  1896  a  notable  group  of  theatrical  magnates 
met  by  chance  at  a  luncheon  at  the  Holland  House  in 
New  York.  They  included  Charles  Frohman,  whose 
offices  booked  attractions  for  a  chain  of  Western  thea- 
ters extending  to  the  coast;  A.  L.  Erlanger  and  Marc 
Klaw,  who,  as  Klaw  &  Erlanger,  controlled  attractions 
for  practically  the  entire  South;  Nixon  &  Zimmerman, 
of  Philadelphia,  who  were  conducting  a  group  of  the 
leading  theaters  of  that  city,  and  Al  Hayman,  one  of  the 
owners  of  the  Empire  Theater. 

These  men  naturally  discussed  the  chaos  in  the  theat- 

186 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

rical  business.  They  decided  that  its  only  economic 
hope  was  in  a  centralization  of  booking  interests,  and 
they  acted  immediately  on  this  decision.  Within  a  few 
weeks  they  had  organized  all  the  theaters  they  con- 
trolled or  represented  into  one  national  chain,  and  the 
open  time  was  placed  on  file  in  the  offices  of  Klaw  & 
Erlanger.  It  now  became  possible  for  the  manager  of 
a  traveling  company  to  book  a  consecutive  tour  at  the 
least  possible  expense.  In  a  word,  booking  suddenly 
became  standardized. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  famous  Theatrical 
Syndicate  which,  in  a  brief  time,  dominated  the  theatrical 
business  of  the  whole  country.  It  marked  a  real  epoch 
in  the  history  of  the  American  theater  because  within  a 
year  a  complete  revolution  had  been  effected  in  the 
business.  The  booking  of  attractions  was  emancipated 
from  curb  and  cafe;  a  theatrical  contract  became  an 
accredited  and  licensed  instrument.  The  Syndicate 
became  a  clearing-house  for  the  theatrical  manager  and 
the  play-producer,  and  the  medium  through  which  they 
did  business  with  each  other.  Charles  Frohman  contrib- 
uted his  growing  chain  of  theaters  to  the  organization 
and  secured  a  one-sixth  interest  in  it  which  he  retained 
up  to  the  time  of  his  death. 

Once  laimched,  the  Syndicate  proceeded  to  ride  the 
tempest,  for  the  biggest  storm  in  all  American  theatrical 
history  soon  began  to  develop.  Out  of  the  long  turmoil 
came  a  whole  new  line-up  in  the  business.  It  affected 
Charles  Frohman  less  than  any  of  his  immediate  asso- 
ciates in  the  big  combination  because,  first  of  all,  he  was 
a  passive  member,  and,  second,  he  had  a  kingdom  all 
his  own.     Yet  the  story  of  these  turbulent  years  is  so 

187 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

inseparably  linked  up  with  the  development  of  the  drama 
in  this  country  that  it  is  well  worth  rehearsing. 

Although  the  Syndicate  standardized  the  theatrical 
contract  and  made  efficient  and  economical  booking 
possible,  it  did  not  immediately  secure  the  willing  co- 
operation of  some  of  the  best-known  travehng  stars  of 
the  day.  They  included  Mrs.  Fiske,  Richard  Mansfield, 
Joseph  Jefferson,  Nat  C.  Goodwin,  Francis  Wilson  (then 
in  comic  opera),  and  James  A.  Heme.  They  were  great 
popular  favorites  and  had  been  accustomed  to  appear 
at  stated  intervals  in  certain  theaters  in  various  parts 
of  the  country.  They  booked  their  own  "  time  "  and  had 
a  more  or  less  personal  relation  with  the  lessees  and 
managers  of  the  theaters  in  which  they  appeared. 

The  Syndicate  began  to  book  these  stars  as  it  saw 
fit  and  as  they  could  be  best  fitted  into  the  country- wide 
scheme.  A  scale  of  terms  was  arranged  that  was  re- 
garded as  equitable  both  to  the  attraction  and  the  local 
manager. 

These  stars,  however,  refused  to  be  booked  in  this 
way.  They  denied  the  right  of  the  new  organization 
to  say  when  and  where  they  should  play.  Out  of 
this  denial  came  the  famous  revolt  against  the  Syn- 
dicate which  blazed  intermittently  for  more  than  two 
decades. 

Chief  among  the  insurgents  was  Mrs.  Fiske,  who  had 
returned  to  the  stage  in  ''Tess  of  the  D'Urbervilles," 
a  dramatization  of  Thomas  Hardy's  great  novel.  Her 
husband  and  manager,  Harrison  Gray  Fiske,  was  editor 
and  publisher  of  The  Dramatic  Mirror^  which  became 
the  voice  of  protest.  Mrs.  Fiske  refused  to  appear  in 
Syndicate  theaters,  and  she  hired  independent  houses 
all  over  the  country.    Such  places  were  few  and  far  be- 

i88 


BIRTH    OF   THE    SYNDICATE 

tween  in  those  days,  and  she  was  forced  to  tDlay  in 
public  halls,  even  skating-rinks. 

Mansfield  became  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  opposition 
to  the  Syndicate.  He  made  speeches  before  the  curtain, 
denouncing  its  methods.  His  lead  was  followed  by  Fran- 
cis Wilson,  and  subsequently  by  James  K.  Hackett, 
David  Belasco,  and  Henry  W.  Savage.  The  fight  on 
the  huge  combination  became  a  matter  of  nation-wide 
interest. 

All  the  while  the  Syndicate  was  growing  in  power  and 
authority.  Gradually  the  revolutionists  returned  to 
the  fold  because  desirable  terms  were  made  for  them. 
Only  Mrs.  Fiske  remained  outside  the  ranks.  In  order 
to  secure  a  New  York  City  stage  for  her  Mr.  Fiske 
leased  the  Manhattan  Theater  for  a  long  term. 

It  was  during  these  strenuous  years,  and  as  one  in- 
direct result  of  the  Syndicate  fight,  that  a  whole  new 
theatrical  dynasty  sprang  up.  It  took  shape  and  cen- 
tered in  the  growing  importance  of  three  then  obscure 
brothers,  Lee,  Sam,  and  Jacob  J.  Shubert  by  name, 
who  lived  in  Syracuse,  New  York.  They  were  bom  in 
humble  circumstances,  and  early  in  life  had  been  forced 
to  become  breadwinners.  The  first  to  get  into  the 
theatrical  business  was  Sam,  the  second  son,  who,  as 
a  youngster  barely  in  his  teens,  became  program  boy 
and  later  on  assistant  in  the  box-ofiice  of  the  Grand 
Opera  House  in  his  native  town.  At  seventeen  he  was 
treasurer  of  the  Wei  ting  Opera  House  there,  and  from 
that  time  until  his  death  in  a  railroad  accident  in  1905 
he  was  an  increasingly  powerful  figure  in  the  business. 

Before  Sam  Shubert  was  twenty  he  controlled  a  chain 
of  theaters  with  stock  companies  in  up-state  New  York 
cities  and  had  taken  his  two  brothers  into  partnership 

189 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

with  him.  In  1900  he  subleased  the  Herald  Square 
Theater  in  New  York  City  and  thus  laid  the  corner- 
stone of  what  came  to  be  known  as  the  "Independent 
Movement"  throughout  the  country.  He  had  initiative 
and  enterprise.  Gradually  he  and  his  brothers  and  their 
associates  controlled  a  line  of  theaters  from  coast  to 
coast.  In  these  theaters  they  offered  attractive  bookings 
to  the  managers  who  were  outside  the  Syndicate.  The 
Shuberts  also  became  producers  and  encouragers  of 
productions  on  a  large  scale. 

For  the  first  time  the  Syndicate  now  had  real  opposi- 
tion. A  warfare  developed  that  was  almost  as  bitter 
and  costly  in  its  way  as  was  the  old  disorganized  method 
in  vogue  before  the  business  was  put  on  a  commercial 
basis.  It  naturally  led  to  over-production  and  to  a 
surplus  of  theaters.  Towns  that  in  reality  could  only 
support  one  first-class  playhouse  were  compelled  to  have 
a  "regular"  and  an  "independent"  theater.  Attractions 
of  a  similar  nature,  such  as  two  musical  comedies,  were 
pitted  against  each  other.  In  dividing  the  local  patron- 
age both  sides  suffered  loss. 

During  the  last  year  of  Charles  Frohman*s  life  the 
Syndicate  and  the  Shuberts,  wisely  realizing  that  such 
an  uneconomic  procedure  could  only  spell  disaster  in 
a  large  way  for  the  whole  theatrical  business,  buried 
their  differences.  A  harmonious  working  agreement 
was  entered  into  that  put  an  end  to  the  destructive 
strife.  Theatrical  booking  became  an  open  field,  and 
the  producer  can  now  play  his  attractions  in  both 
Syndicate  and  Shubert  theaters. 

Charles  Frohman's  activities  were  now  nation-wide. 
Just  as  Harriman  built  up  a  transcontinental  railroad 

190 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

system,  so  did  the  rotund  little  manager  now  set  up  an 
empire  all  his  own.  The  building  of  the  Empire  Theater 
had  given  him  a  closer  link  with  Rich  and  Harris. 
Through  them  he  acquired  an  interest  in  the  Columbia 
Theater,  in  Boston,  and  subsequently  he  became  part 
owner  of  the  Hollis  Street  Theater  in  that  city.  His 
third  theater  in  Boston  was  the  Park.  By  this  time  the 
firm  name  for  Boston  operation  was  Rich,  Harris,  and 
Charles  Frohman.  Their  next  venture  was  the  construc- 
tion of  the  magnificent  Colonial  Theater,  on  the  site  of 
the  old  Boston  Public  Library,  which  was  opened  with 
"Ben-Hur."  With  the  acquisition  of  the  Boston  and 
Tremont  playhouses,  the  firm  controlled  the  situation 
at  Boston. 

Up  to  this  time  Frohman  had  controlled  only  one  thea- 
ter in  New  York — the  Empire.  In  1896  he  saw  an  oppor- 
tunity to  acquire  control  of  the  Garrick  in  Thirty-fifth 
Street.  He  wrote  to  William  Harris,  saying,  'T  will 
take  it  if  you  will  come  on  and  run  it."  Harris  assented, 
and  the  Garrick  passed  under  the  banner  of  Charles 
Frohman,  who  inaugurated  his  regime  with  John  Drew 
in  "The  Squire  of  Dames."  He  put  some  of  his  biggest 
successes  into  this  theater  and  some  of  his  favorite  stars, 
among  them  Maude  Adams  and  William  Gillette.  To 
the  chain  of  Charles  Frohman  controlled  theaters  in  New 
York  were  added  in  quick  order  the  Criterion,  the  Savoy, 
the  Garden,  and  a  part  interest  in  the  Knickerbocker. 

During  his  early  tenancy  of  the  Garrick  occurred  an 
incident  which  showed  Frohman's  resource.  He  pro- 
duced a  play  called  ''The  Liars,"  by  Henry  Arthur 
Jones,  in  which  he  was  very  much  interested.  In  the 
out-of-town  try-out  up-state  Frohman  heard  that  the 
critic  of  one  of  the  most  important  New  York  newspapers 

191 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

had  expressed  great  disapproval  of  the  piece  on  account 
of  some  persona]  prejudice.  He  did  not  want  this  preju- 
dice to  interfere  with  the  New  York  verdict,  so  he  went 
to  Charles  Dillingham  one  day  shortly  before  the  open- 
ing and  said: 

"Can  you  get  me  some  loud  laughers?" 

Dillingham  said  he  could. 

"All  right,"  said  Frohman;  "I  want  you  to  plant 
one  on  either  side  of  Mr.  Blank,"  referring  to  the  critic 
who  had  a  prejudice  against  the  play. 

This  was  done,  and  on  the  opening  night  the  "prop" 
laughers  made  such  a  noisy  demonstration  that  the 
critic  said  it  was  the  funniest  farce  in  years. 

Charles  Frohman's  first  foreign  star,  who  paved  the 
way  for  so  many,  was  Olga  Nethersole.  His  manage- 
ment of  her  came  about  in  a  curious  way.  A  differ- 
ence had  arisen  between  Augustin  Daly  and  Ada  Rehan, 
his  leading  woman.  Miss  Rehan  had  decided  to  with- 
draw from  the  company,  and  in  casting  about  quickly 
for  a  successor  had  decided  upon  Olga  Nethersole,  then 
one  of  the  most  prominent  of  the  younger  English 
actresses.  While  the  deal  was  being  consummated 
Daly  and  Miss  Rehan  adjusted  their  differences,  and 
the  arrangements  for  Miss  Nethersole's  appearance  in 
America  were  abrogated. 

Miss  Nethersole  was  left  without  an  American  man- 
ager. Daniel  Frohman,  then  manager  of  the  Lyceimi 
Theater,  stepped  in  and  became  her  American  sponsor, 
forming  a  partnership  with  his  brother  Charles  to  handle 
her  interests.  Jointly  they  now  conducted  an  elaborate 
tour  for  her  covering  two  years,  in  which  she  appeared 
in  "Denise,"  "Frou-Frou,"  "Camille,"  and  "Carmen." 

192 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

The  sensational  episode  of  her  tour  was  the  production 
of  ''Carmen."  The  fiery,  impetuous,  emotional,  and 
sensuous  character  of  the  Spanish  heroine  appealed  to 
Miss  Nethersole's  vivid  imagination,  and  she  gave  a 
realistic  portrayal  of  the  role  that  became  popular  and 
spectacular.  In  all  parts  of  the  country  the  ''Carmen 
Kiss"  became  a  byword.  The  play,  in  addition  to  its 
own  merits  as  a  striking  drama,  and  its  vogue  at  the 
opera  through  Madame  Calve's  performance  of  the  lead- 
ing role,  became  a  very  successful  vehicle  for  Miss 
Nethersole's  two  tours.  Miss  Nethersole  was  the 
first  star  outside  of  Charles  Frohman's  own  force  who 
appeared  at  the  Empire  Theater,  where  she  played  a 
brief  engagement  with  "Camille"  and  "Carmen." 

From  his  earliest  theatrical  day  Charles  believed 
implicitly  in  melodrama.  His  first  production  on  any 
stage  was  a  thriller.  The  play  that  turned  the  tide  in 
his  fortunes  was  a  spine-stirrer.  He  now  turned  to  his 
favorite  form  of  play  by  producing  "The  Fatal  Card," 
by  Haddon  Chambers  and  B.  C.  Stephenson,  at  Palmer's 
Theater.  He  did  it  with  an  admirable  cast  that  included 
May  Robson,  Agnes  Miller,  Amy  Busby,  E.  J.  Ratcliffe, 
WilHam  H.  Thompson,  J.  H.  Stoddart,  and  W.  J. 
Ferguson. 

A  big  melodrama  now  became  part  of  his  regular 
season.  He  leased  the  old  Academy  of  Music  at  Four- 
teenth Street  and  Irving  Place  in  New  York,  where,  as 
a  boy,  he  had  seen  his  brother  Gustave  sell  opera  li- 
brettos, and  where  he  became  fired  with  the  ambition 
to  make  money.  Here  he  produced  a  notable  series  of 
melodramas  in  lavish  fashion.  The  first  was  "The 
Sporting  Duchess."    This  piece,  which  was  produced  in 

193 


J. 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

England  as  ''The  Derby  Winner,"  was  a  sure-enough 
thriller.  The  cast  included  E.  J.  Ratcliffe,  Francis  Car- 
lyle,  J.  H.  Stoddart,  AHce  Fischer,  Cora  Tanner,  Agnes 
Booth,  and  Jessie  Busley. 

Charles  Frohman's  next  melodrama  at  the  Academy 
was  the  famous  "Two  Little  Vagrants,"  adapted  from 
the  French  by  Charles  Klein.  In  this  cast  he  brought 
forward  a  notable  group  destined  to  shine  in  the  drama, 
for  among  them  were  Dore  Davidson,  Minnie  Dupree, 
Annie  Irish,  George  Fawcett,  and  William  Farnum,  the  last 
named  then  just  beginning  to  strike  his  theatrical  stride. 

Still  another  famous  melodrama  that  Charles  intro- 
duced to  the  United  States  at  the  famous  old  play- 
house was  "The  White  Heather,"  in  which  he  featured 
Rose  Coghlan,  and  in  which  Amelia  Bingham  made 
one  of  her  first  successes.  With  this  piece  Charles 
emphasized  one  of  the  customs  he  helped  to  bring  to 
the  American  stage.  He  always  paid  for  the  actresses* 
clothes.  He  told  Miss  Coghlan  to  spare  no  expense  on 
her  gowns,  and  she  spent  several  thousand  dollars  on 
them.  When  she  saw  Frohman  after  the  opening,  which 
was  a  huge  success,  she  said : 

**I  am  almost  ashamed  to  see  you." 

**Why?"  he  asked. 

"Because  I  spent  so  much  money  on  my  gowns." 

** Nonsense!"  said  Frohman.  "You  did  very  wisely. 
You  and  the  gowns  are  the  hit  of  the  piece." 

Frohman  here  established  a  new  tradition  for  the 
production  of  melodrama  in  the  United  States.  Up  to 
his  era  the  producer  depended  upon  thrill  rather  than 
upon  accessory.  Frohman  lavished  a  fortune  on  each 
production.  Any  competition  with  him  had  to  be  on  the 
same  elaborate  scale. 

194 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

Fully  a  year  before  Maude  Adams  made  her  stellar 
debut  Frohman  put  forth  his  first  woman  star  in  Annie 
Russell.  This  gifted  young  Englishwoman,  who  had 
appeared  on  the  stage  at  the  age  of  seven  in  'Tinafore," 
had  made  a  great  success  in  "Esmeralda,"  at  the  Madi- 
son Square  Theater.  Frohman,  who  was  then  begin- 
ning his  managerial  career,  was  immediately  taken  with 
her  talent.  She  appeared  in  some  of  his  earlier  com- 
panies. He  now  starred  her  in  a  play  by  Bret  Harte 
called  "Sue."  He  presented  her  both  in  New  York 
and  in  London. 

Under  Frohman,  Miss  Russell  had  a  long  series  of 
starring  successes.  When  she  appeared  in  "Catherine," 
at  the  Garrick  Theater,  in  her  support  was  Ethel  Barry- 
more,  who  was  just  beginning  to  emerge  from  the  ob- 
scurity of  playing  "bits."  In  succession  Miss  Russell 
did  "Miss  Hobbs,"  "The  Royal.  Family,"  "The  Girl 
and  the  Judge,"  "Jinny  the  Carrier,"  and  "Mice  and 
Men." 

In  connection  with  "Mice  and  Men"  is  a  character- 
istic Frohman  story.  Charles  ordered  this  play  written 
from  Madeleine  Lucette  Ryley  for  Maude  Adams.  When 
he  read  the  manuscript  he  sent  it  back  to  Miss  Ryley 
with  the  laconic  comment,  "Worse  yet."  She  showed 
it  to  Gertrude  Elliott,  who  bought  it  for  England. 
When  Charles  heard  of  this  he  immediately  accepted 
the  play,  and  it  proved  to  be  a  success.  The  moment 
a  play  was  in  demand  it  became  valuable  to  him. 

Spectactdar  success  seemed  to  have  taken  up  its 
abode  with  Charles.  It  now  found  expression  in  the 
production  of  "Secret  Service,"  the  most  picturesque 
and  profitable  of  all  the  Gillette  enterprises.  The  way 
it  came  to  be  written  is  a  most  interesting  story. 

195 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Frohman  was  about  to  sail  for  Europe  when  Gillette 
sent  him  the  first  act  of  this  stirring  military  play. 
Frohman  read  it  at  once,  sent  for  the  author  and 
said: 

"This  is  great,  Gillette.    Let  me  see  the  second  act." 

Gillette  produced  this  act  forthwith,  and  Frohman 's 
enthusiasm  increased  to  such  an  extent  that  he  post- 
poned his  saiHng  until  he  received  the  complete  play. 
Frohman's  interest  in  ''Secret  Service"  was  heightened 
by  the  fact  that  he  had  scored  two  tremendous  triumphs 
with  military  plays,  "Held  by  the  Enemy"  and  "Shen- 
andoah." He  felt  that  the  talisman  of  the  brass  button 
was  still  his,  and  he  plunged  heavily  on  "Secret  Service." 

It  was  first  put  on  in  Philadelphia.  Even  at  that  time 
there  obtained  the  superstition  widely  felt  in  the  theat- 
rical business  that  what  fails  out  of  town  must  succeed 
in  New  York.  Frohman,  who  shared  this  superstition, 
was  really  eager  not  to  register  successfully  in  the 
Quaker  capital. 

But  "Secret  Service"  smashed  this  superstition,  be- 
cause it  scored  heavily  in  Philadelphia  and  then  had 
an  enormous  run  at  the  Garrick  Theater  in  New  York. 
In  "Secret  Service"  Maurice  Barrymore  had  the  lead- 
ing part,  and  he  played  it  with  a  distinction  of  bearing 
and  a  dash  of  manner  that  were  almost  irresistible. 

William  Gillette  always  proved  to  be  one  of  Charles 
Frohman's  mascots.  Practically  whatever  he  touched 
turned  to  gold.  He  and  Frohman  had  now  become  close 
friends,  and  the  actor-author  frequently  accompanied 
the  manager  on  his  trips  to  London. 

During  their  visit  in  1899,  "Sherlock  Holmes"  had 
become  the  literary  rage.  Everybody  was  talking  about 
the  masterful  detective  of  Baker  Street. 

196 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

''We  must  get  those  Doyle  stories,"  said  Frohman  to 
Gillette. 

"All  right,"  said  the  author. 

Frohman  personally  went  to  see  Conan  Doyle  and 
made  a  bid  for  the  rights. 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Frohman,"  replied  Doyle,  "but  I 
shall  make  one  stipulation.  There  must  be  no  love 
business  in  'Sherlock  Holmes.'" 

"All  right,"  said  Frohman;  "your  wishes  shall  be 
respected." 

Frohman  now  engaged  Gillette  to  make  the  adapta- 
tion, but  he  said  absolutely  nothing  about  the  condition 
that  Doyle  had  made.  Gillette,  as  most  American 
theater-goers  know,  wove  a  love  interest  into  the  strenu- 
ous life  of  the  famous  detective. 

A  year  later,  Gillette  and  Frohman  again  were  in 
England,  Gillette  to  read  the  manuscript  of  the  play  to 
Doyle.  The  famous  author  liked  the  play  immensely 
and  made  no  objection  whatever  to  the  sentimental 
interest.  In  fact,  his  only  comment  when  Gillette 
finished  reading  the  manuscript  was: 

"It's  good  to  see  the  old  chap  again." 

He  referred,  of  course,  to  Sherlock  Holmes^  who,  up 
to  this  time,  had  already  met  his  death  on  four  or  five 
occasions. 

"Sherlock  Holmes"  proved  to  be  another  "Secret 
Service"  in  every  way.  Gillette  made  an  enormous  suc- 
cess in  the  title  role,  and  after  a  long  run  at  the  Garrick 
went  on  the  road.  Frohman  revived  it  again  and  again 
until  it  had  almost  as  many  "farewells"  as  Adelina 
Patti.  The  last  business  detail  that  Charles  discussed 
with  Gillette  before  sailing  on  the  fatal  trip  in  191 5 
was  for  a  revival  of  this  play  at  the  Empire. 

197 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

The  Frohman  Star  Factory  was  now  working  full 
time.  Next  in  output  came  William  Faversham.  This 
brilliant  young  Englishman  had  started  with  Daniel 
Frohman's  company  at  the  Lyceum  in  a  small  part.  At 
a  rehearsal  of  "The  Highest  Bidder"  Charles  singled 
him  out. 

''Where  did  you  get  your  cockney  dialect?"  he  asked. 

"Riding  on  the  top  of  London  'buses,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,"  answered  Charles,  "I  want  to  do  that  myself 
some  day." 

This  was  the  first  contact  between  two  men  who  be- 
came intimate  friends  and  who  were  closely  bound  up 
in  each  other's  fortunes. 

During  his  Lyceum  engagement  Faversham  wanted 
to  widen  his  activities.  He  read  in  the  papers  one  day 
that  Charles  was  producing  a  number  of  plays,  so  he 
made  up  his  mind  he  would  try  to  get  into  one  of  them. 
He  went  to  Frohman's  office  every  morning  at  half- 
past  nine  and  asked  to  see  him  or  Al  Hay  man.  Some- 
times he  would  arrive  before  Frohman,  and  the  manager 
had  to  pass  him  as  he  went  into  his  office.  He  invariably 
looked  up,  smiled  at  the  waiting  actor,  and  passed  on. 
Faversham  kept  this  up  for  weeks.  One  day  Alf  Hayman 
asked  him  what  he  wanted  there. 

"I  am  tired  of  hanging  round  the  Lyceum  with  nothing 
to  do.    I  want  a  better  engagement,"  was  the  answer. 

Hayman  evidently  communicated  this  to  Frohman 
and  Al  Hayman,  but  they  made  no  change  in  their 
attitude.  Every  day  they  passed  the  waiting  Faversham 
as  they  arrived  in  the  morning  and  went  out  to  lunch, 
and  always  Frohman  smiled  at  him. 

Finally  one  morning  Charles  came  to  the  door,  looked 
intently  at  Faversham,  puffed  out  his  cheeks  as  was 

198 


WILLIAM  F AVERSE  AM 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

his  fashion,  and  smiled  all  over  his  face.  Turning  to 
Al  Hayman,  who  was  with  him,  he  said : 

"Al,  we've  got  to  give  this  fellow  something  to  do  or 
we  won't  be  able  to  go  in  and  out  of  here  much  longer." 

In  a  few  moments  Frohman  emerged  again,  asked 
Faversham  how  tall  he  was.  When  he  was  told,  he 
invited  Faversham  into  his  office  and  inquired  of  him 
if  he  could  study  a  long  part  and  play  it  in  two  days. 
Faversham  said  he  could.  The  result  was  his  engagement 
for  Rider  Haggard's  "She."  Such  was  the  unusual 
beginning  of  the  long  and  close  association  between 
Faversham  and  Charles  Frohman. 

Faversham  became  leading  man  of  the  Empire 
Stock  Company,  and  his  distinguished  career  was  a 
matter  of  the  greatest  pride  to  Charles.  He  now  was 
caught  up  in  the  Frohman  star  machine  and  made 
his  first  appearance  under  the  banner  of  ''Charles  Froh- 
man Presents,"  in  "A  Royal  Rival,"  at  the  Criterion 
in  August,  1 90 1. 

Charles  not  only  made  Faversham  a  star,  but  provided 
him  with  a  wife,  and  a  very  charming  one,  too.  In  the 
spring  of  1901  an  exquisite  young  girl,  Julie  Opp  by 
name,  was  playing  at  the  St.  James  Theater  in  London. 
Frohman  sent  for  her  and  asked  her  if  she  could  go  to 
the  United  States  to  act  as  leading  woman  for  William 
Faversham. 

*T  have  been  to  America  once,"  she  said,  "and  I 
want  to  go  back  as  a  star." 

When  Frohman  let  loose  the  powers  of  his  persuasive- 
ness, Miss  Opp  began  to  waver. 

"I  don't  want  to  leave  my  nice  London  flat  and  my 
English  maid,"  she  protested. 

*  *  Take  the  maid  with  you, ' '  said  Frohman.    ' '  We  can't 

199 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

box  the  flat  and  take  that  to  New  York,  but  we  have 
flats  in  New  York  that  you  can  hire.'* 

"I  hate  to  leave  all  my  friends,"  continued  Miss  0pp. 

''Well,  I  can't  take  over  all  your  friends,"  replied 
Frohman,  "but  you  will  have  plenty  of  new  admirers 
in  New  York." 

Miss  Opp  asked  what  she  thought  were  unreasonable 
terms.  Frohman  said  nothing,  but  sent  Charles  Dilling- 
ham to  see  her  next  day.  He  said  Frohman  wanted  to 
know  if  she  was  joking  about  her  price.  "Of  course," 
he  said,  "if  you  are  not  joking  he  will  pay  it  anyhow, 
because  when  he  makes  up  his  mind  to  have  anybody 
he  is  going  to  have  him." 

This  shamed  Miss  Opp.  She  asked  a  reasonable  fee, 
went  to  the  United  States,  and  not  only  became  Faver- 
sham's  leading  woman,  but  his  wife.  Frohman  always 
took  infinite  dehght  in  teasing  the  Favershams  about 
having  been  their  matchmaker. 

Charles,  who  loved  to  create  a  sensation  in  a  big  way, 
was  now  able  to  gratify  one  of  his  favorite  emotions 
with  the  production  of  "The  Conquerors."  Like  many 
of  the  Frohman  achievements,  it  began  in  a  picturesque 
way. 

During  the  simimer  of  1897,  Frohman  and  Paul 
Potter,  being  in  Paris,  dropped  in  at  that  chamber  of 
horrors,  the  Grand  Guignol,  in  the  Rue  Chaptal.  There 
they  saw  "Mademoiselle  Fifi,"  a  playlet  lasting  less 
than  half  an  hour,  adapted  by  the  late  Oscar  Metenier 
from  Guy  de  Maupassant's  short  story.  It  was  the  tale 
of  a  young  Prussian  officer  who  gets  into  a  French 
country  house  during  the  war  of  1870,  abuses  the  aristo- 
crats who  live  there,  shoots  out  the  eyes  of  the  family 

200 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

portraits,  entertains  at  supper  a  number  of  loose  French 
girls  from  Rouen,  and  is  shot  by  one  of  the  girls  for  vilify- 
ing Frenchwomen.    Frohman  was  deeply  impressed. 

''Why  can't  you  make  it  into  a  long  play?"  said 
Frohman. 

''I  can,"  said  Potter. 

**How?"  queried  Frohman. 

' '  By  showing  what  happened  to  the  French  aristocrats 
while  the  Prussian  officer  was  shooting  up  the  place," 
ansv/ered  the  author. 

"Do  it,"  said  Frohman,  "and  I'll  open  the  season  of 
the  Empire  Stock  Company  in  this  drama,  and  get 
George  Alexander  interested  for  London." 

As  "The  Conquerors"  the  play  went  into  rehearsal 
about  Christmas.  Mrs.  Dazian,  wife  of  Henry  Dazian, 
the  costumier,  was  watching  a  scene  in  which  William 
Faversham  plans  the  ruin  of  Viola  Allen,  the  leading 
woman. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Dazian,  "if  New  York  will  stand 
for  that  it  will  stand  for  anything." 

Frohman  jumped  up  in  excitement.  "What  is  wrong 
with  it?"  he  cried.  "The  manuscript  was  shown  to  a 
dozen  people  of  the  cleanest  minds.  They  found  nothing 
wrong.  I've  done  the  scene  a  dozen  times.  I  have  it 
up-stairs  on  my  shelves  at  this  moment  in  'The  Sporting 
Duchess.'" 

Mrs.  Dazian  was  obdurate.     "It  is  awful,"  she  said. 

The  first  night  approached.  Potter  was  to  sail  for 
Europe  next  day.  Frohman  had  provided  him  with 
sumptuous  cabin  quarters  on  the  New  York.  After  the 
dress  rehearsal.  Potter  appeared  on  the  Empire  stage, 
where  he  found  Frohman.    The  latter  was  worried. 

"Paul,"  said  he,  "the  first  three  acts  are  fine;    the 

14  20I 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

last  is  rotten.  You  must  stay  and  rewrite  the  last 
act." 

Potter  had  to  postpone  his  trip.  At  ten  next  morning 
the  new  act  was  handed  in;  the  company  learned  and 
rehearsed  it  by  three  in  the  afternoon,  and  that  night 
Frohman  and  the  author  stood  in  the  box-office  watching 
the  audience  file  in. 

''How's  the  house,  Tommy?"  demanded  Frohman  of 
Thomas  Shea,  his  house  manager. 

"Over  seventeen  hundred  dollars  already,"  said  Shea. 

''You  can  go  to  Europe,  Paul,"  said  Frohman.  "Your 
last  act  is  all  right.    We  don't  want  you  any  more." 

The  American  public  agreed  with  Mrs.  Dazian. 
They  thought  the  play  excruciatingly  wicked,  but  they 
were  just  as  eagsr  to  see  it  on  the  Fourth  of  July  as  they 
had  been  six  months  earlier. 

A  dozen  details  combined  to  make  "The  Conquerors" 
a  storm-center.  First  of  all  it  was  attacked  because  of 
its  alleged  immorality.  In  the  second  place  the  author 
was  charged  with  having  appropriated  some  of  Sardou's 
"La  Haine."  In  the  third  place,  this  play  marked  the 
first  stage  appearance  of  Mrs.  Clara  Bloodgood,  wife 
of  "Jack"  Bloodgood,  one  of  the  best-known  men 
about  town  in  New  York.  Mr.  Bloodgood  became 
desperately  ill  during  rehearsals,  and  his  wife  divided 
her  time  between  watching  at  his  bedside  and  going  to 
the  theater.  Of  course,  the  newspapers  were  filled  with 
the  account  of  the  event  which  was  agitating  all  society, 
and  it  added  greatly  to  popular  interest  in  the  play. 

"The  Conquerors"  not  only  brought  Paul  Potter 
and  Frohman  a  great  success,  but  it  sped  William  Faver- 
sham  on  to  the  time  when  he  was  to  become  a  star. 
The  cast  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished  that  Froh- 

202 


HENRY  MILLER 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

man  had  ever  assembled,  and  it  included  among  its 
women  five  future  stars — Viola  Allen,  Blanche  Walsh, 
Ida  Conquest,  Clara  Bloodgood,  and  May  Robson. 

By  this  time  Henry  Miller  had  left  the  Empire  Stock 
Company  and  had  gone  on  the  road  with  a  play  called 
''Heartsease,"  by  Charles  Klein  and  J.  I.  C.  Clark. 
It  failed  in  Cincinnati,  and  Miller  wrote  Frohman 
about  it.  A  week  later  the  men  met  on  Broadway. 
Miller  still  beheved  in  "Heartsease"  and  asked  Froh- 
man if  he  could  read  it  to  him. 

''All  right,"  replied  Frohman;  "come  to-morrow  and 
let  me  hear  it." 

Miller  showed  up  the  next  morning  and  left  Klein 
and  Clark,  who  had  accompanied  him,  in  a  lower  office. 
Frohman  locked  the  door,  as  was  his  custom,  curled 
himself  up  on  a  settee,  lighted  a  cigar,  and  asked  for  the 
manuscript. 

"I  didn't  bring  it.    I  will  act  it  out  for  you." 

Miller  knew  the  whole  production  of  the  play  depended 
upon  his  performance.  He  improvised  whole  scenes 
and  speeches  as  he  went  along,  and  he  made  a  deep 
impression.  When  he  finished,  Frohman  sat  still  for  a 
few  moments.  Then  he  rang  a  bell  and  Alf  Hayman 
appeared.     To  him  he  said,  quietly: 

"We  are  going  to  do  'Heartsease.'  " 

Miller  rushed  down-stairs  to  where  Klein  and  Clark 
were  waiting,  and  told  them  to  get  to  work  revising  the 
manuscript. 

When  the  play  went  into  rehearsal,  Frohman,  who  sat 
in  front,  spoke  to  Miller  from  time  to  time,  asking, 
"Where  is  that  line  you  spoke  in  my  office?" 

This   incident   is   cited   to   show   Charles's   amazing 

203 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

memory.  Miller,  of  course,  had  improvised  constantly 
during  his  personal  performance  of  the  play,  and  Froh- 
man  recognized  that  these  improvisations  were  missing 
when  the  piece  came  into  rehearsal. 

Charles  now  added  a  third  star  to  his  constellation 
in  Henry  Miller.  He  first  produced  ''Heartsease"  in 
New  Haven.  Charles  Dillingham  sat  with  him  during 
the  performance.  When  the  curtain  went  down  on  a  big 
scene,  and  the  audience  was  in  a  tumult,  demanding 
star  and  author,  Frohman  leaned  over  to  speak  to  his 
friend.  Dillingham  thought  he  was  about  to  make  a 
historic  remark,  inspired  by  the  enormous  success  of 
the  play  before  him.    Instead,  Frohman  whispered : 

''Charley,  I  wonder  if  they  have  any  more  of  that 
famous  apple-pie  over  at  Hueblein's?" 

He  was  referring  to  a  famous  article  of  food  that  had 
added  almost  as  much  glory  to  New  Haven  as  had  its 
historic  university,  and  for  which  Frohman  had  an 
inordinate  love. 

Henry  Miller  now  became  an  established  Frohman 
star.  After  "Heartsease"  had  had  several  successful 
road  seasons,  Frohman  presented  Miller  in  "The  Only 
Way,"  an  impressive  dramatization  of  Charles  Dickens's 
great  story,  "A  Tale  of  Two  Cities." 

Charles  Dillingham's  friendship  with  Frohman  had 
now  become  one  of  the  closest  of  his  life.  He  always 
accompanied  Frohman  to  England,  and  was  regarded  as 
his  right-hand  man.  Frohman  had  always  urged  his 
friend  to  branch  out  for  himself.  The  result  was  that 
Dillingham  assumed  the  managership  of  Julia  Marlowe. 

Dillingham  presented  Miss  Marlowe  at  the  Knicker- 
bocker Theater  in  New  York  in  "The  Countess  Valeska." 

204 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

Frohman  liked  the  play  so  much  that  he  became  inter- 
ested in  the  management  of  Miss  Marlowe,  and  together 
they  produced  "Colinette,"  adapted  from  the  French 
by  Henry  Guy  Carleton,  at  this  theater.  "Colinette" 
inspired  one  of  the  many  examples  of  Frohman's  quick 
retort. 

The  *' try-out"  was  at  Bridgeport,  and  Dillingham 
had  engaged  a  private  chair  car  for  the  company.  When 
Frohman  tried  to  get  on  this  car  at  Grand  Central  Sta- 
tion the  porter  turned  him  down,  saying: 

''This  is  the  Marlowe  car." 

Whereupon  Frohman  spoke  up  quickly  and  said: 
**I  am  Mr.  Marlowe,"  and  stepped  aboard. 

The  production  of  "Colinette"  marked  the  beginning 
of  another  one  of  Frohman's  intimate  associations. 
He  engaged  William  Seymour  to  rehearse  and  produce 
the  play.  Seymour  later  directed  some  of  the  greatest 
Frohman  undertakings  and  eventually  became  general 
stage-manager  for  his  chief.  Frohman  was  now  actively 
interested  in  Miss  Marlowe's  career.  Under  the  joint 
Frohman- DilHngham  management  she  played  in  "As 
You  Like  It"  and  *'Ingomar." 

By  this  time  Clyde  Fitch  had  steadily  made  his  way 
to  the  point  where  Frohman  had  ceased  to  regard  him 
as  a  "pink  tea"  author,  but  as  a  really  big  playwright. 
They  became  great  friends.  He  gave  Fitch  every  pos- 
sible encouragement.  The  time  was  at  hand  when  Fitch 
was  to  reward  that  encouragement,  and  in  splendid 
fashion. 

Once  more  the  Civil  War  proved  a  Charles  Frohman 
mascot,  for  Fitch  now  wrote  "Barbara  Fritchie,"  founded 
on  John  G.  Whittier's  famous  war  poem.  He  surrounded 
the  star  with  a  cast   that  included  W.   J.   Lemoyne, 

205 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Arnold  Daly,  Dodson  Mitchel,  and  J.  H.  Gilmour. 
The  play  opened  at  the  Broad  Street  Theater  in  Phila- 
delphia. At  the  dress  rehearsal  began  an  incident 
which  showed  Charles's  ready  resource. 

In  the  second  act  the  business  of  the  play  required 
that  Miss  Marlowe  take  a  gun  and  shoot  a  man.  No 
gun  was  at  hand.  It  was  decided  to  send  the  late  Byron 
Ongley,  assistant  stage-manager  of  the  company,  to  the 
Stratford  Hotel,  where  the  star  lived,  with  a  gun  and 
show  her  how  to  use  it  there. 

When  Frohman,  who  came  to  see  the  rehearsal,  heard 
of  this  he  had  an  inspiration  for  a  fine  piece  of 
publicity. 

''Why  can't  Ongley  pretend  to  be  a  crank  and  appear 
to  be  making  an  attempt  on  Miss  Marlowe's  life?" 

He  liked  Ongley,  and  he  really  conceived  the  idea 
more  to  play  one  of  his  numerous  practical  jokes  than 
to  capitaHze  the  event. 

Without  saying  a  word  to  Ongley,  Dillingham  notified 
the  Stratford  management  that  Miss  Marlowe  had  re- 
ceived a  threatening  letter  from  a  crank  who  might 
possibly  appear  and  make  an  attempt  on  her  life.  When 
Ongley  entered  the  hotel  lobby  innocently  carrying  the 
gun  he  was  beset  by  four  huge  porters  and  borne  to  the 
ground.  The  police  were  summoned  and  he  was  haled 
off  to  jail,  where  he  spent  twenty-four  hours.  The 
newspapers  made  great  capital  of  the  event,  and  it  stimu- 
lated interest  in  the  performance. 

When  "Barbara  Fritchie"  opened  at  the  Criterion 
Theater  in  New  York,  which  had  passed  under  the  Froh- 
man control,  it  scored  an  immediate  success.  It  ran.  for 
four  months.  Not  only  was  Miss  Marlowe  put  into  the 
front  rank  of  paying  stars,  but  the  success  of  the  play 

206 


WILLIAM  H.  CRANE 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

gave  Clyde  Fitch  an  enormous  prestige,  for  it  was  his 
first  big  triumph  as  an  original  playwright.  From  this 
time  on  his  interest  was  closely  linked  with  that  of 
Charles  Frohman,  who  became  his  sponsor. 

In  connection  with  Julia  Marlowe  is  a  characteristic 
Frohman  story.  The  manager  always  refused  to  accept 
the  new  relation  when  one  of  his  women  stars  married. 
This  incident  grew  out  of  Julia  Marlowe's  marriage  to 
Robert  Taber. 

One  day  his  office-boy  brought  in  word  that  Mrs. 
Taber  would  like  to  see  him. 

*T  don't  know  her." 

After  an  interval  of  a  few  moments  a  dulcet  voice 
came  through  the  door,  saying,  "Won't  you  see  me?" 

"Who  are  you?" 

"Mrs.  Taber." 

"I  don't  know  Mrs.  Taber,  but  JuHa  Marlowe  can 
come  in." 

Charles  was  now  in  a  whirlwind  of  activities.  He  was 
not  only  making  stars,  but  also,  as  the  case  of. Clyde 
Fitch  proved,  developing  playwrights.  In  the  latter 
connection  he  had  a  peculiar  distinccion. 

One  day  some  years  before,  Madeline  Lucette  Ryley 
came  to  see  him.  She  was  a  charming  English  inghiue 
who  had  been  a  singing  soubrette  in  musical  comedies 
at  the  famous  old  Casino,  the  home  of  musical  comedies, 
where  Francis  Wilson,  De  Wolf  Hopper,  Jefferson  De 
Angelis,  and  Pauline  Hall  had  achieved  fame  as  comic- 
opera  stars.  She  had  also  appeared  in  a  number  of 
serious  plays. 

Mrs.  Ryley  made  application  for  a  position.  PVohman 
said  to  her : 

207 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

"I  don't  need  actresses,  but  I  need  plays.  Go  home 
and  write  me  one." 

Mrs.  Ryley  up  to  that  time  had  written  plays  only 
as  an  amateur.  She  went  home  and  wrote  ' '  Christopher 
Jr."  and  it  started  her  on  a  notably  successful  career  as 
a  playwright.  In  fact,  she  was  perhaps  the  first  of  the 
really  successful  women  playwrights. 

Charles  Frohman  celebrated  the  opening  theatrical 
season  of  the  new  twentieth  century  by  annexing  a 
new  star  and  a  fortune  at  the  same  time.  It  was  William 
H.  Crane  in  ''David  Harum"  who  accomplished  this. 

Again  history  repeated  itself  in  a  picturesque  approach 
to  a  Frohman  success.  One  morning,  at  the  time  when 
both  had  apartments  at  Sherry's,  Frohman  and  Charles 
Dillingham  emerged  from  the  building  after  breakfast. 
On  the  sidewalk  they  met  Denman  Thompson,  the  old 
actor.  Frohman  engaged  him  in  conversation.  Suddenly 
Thompson  began  to  chuckle. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  asked  Frohman. 

"I  was  thinking  of  a  book  I  read  last  night,  called 
*  David  Harimi,'"  replied  Thompson. 

"Was  it  interesting?" 

"The  best  American  story  I  ever  read,"  said  the  actor. 

Frohman 's  eyes  suddenly  sparkled.  He  winked  at 
Dillingham,  who  hailed  a  cab  and  made  off.  Frohman 
engaged  Thompson  in  conversation  until  he  returned. 
In  his  pocket  he  carried  a  copy  of  "  David  Harum." 

Frohman  read  the  book  that  day,  made  a  contract 
for  its  dramatization,  and  from  the  venture  he  cleared 
nearly  half  a  million  dollars. 

Frohman  considered  four  men  for  the  part  of  David 
Harum,      They   were    Denman   Thompson,    James   A. 

208 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

Hearne,  Sol  Smith  Russell,  and  Crane.  Thompson  was 
too  old,  Hearne  had  been  associated  too  long  with  the 
"Shore  Acres"  type  to  adapt  himself  to  the  Westcott 
hero,  and  Sol  Smith  Russell  did  not  meet  the  require- 
ments.   Frohman  regarded  Crane  as  ideal. 

His  negotiations  with  Crane  for  this  part  were  typical 
of  his  business  arrangements.  It  took  exactly  five  min- 
utes to  discuss  them.  When  the  terms  had  been  agreed 
upon,  Frohman  said  to  Crane: 

''Are  you  sure  this  is  perfectly  satisfactory  to  you?" 

''Perfectly,"  replied  Crane. 

Frohman  reached  over  from  his  desk  and  shook  his 
new  star  by  the  hand.  It  was  his  way  of  ratifying  a 
contract  that  was  never  put  on  paper,  and  over  v/hich 
no  word  of  disagreement  ever  arose.  Crane's  connection 
with  Charles  Frohman  lasted  for  nine  years. 

Frohman  personally  rehearsed  "David  Harum." 
Much  of  its  extraordinary  success  was  due  to  his  mar- 
velous energy.  It  was  Frohman,  and  not  the  dramatist, 
who  introduced  the  rain-storm  scene  at  the  close  of  the 
second  act  which  made  one  of  the  biggest  hits  of  the 
performance.  Throughout  the  play  there  were  many 
evidences  of  Frohman 's  skill  and  craftsmanship. 

It  was  just  about  this  time  that  the  real  kinship  with 
Augustus  Thomas  began.  Frohman,  after  his  first 
meeting  with  Thomas  years  before  in  the  box-ofiice  of 
a  St.  Louis  theater,  had  produced  his  play  "Surrender," 
and  had  engaged  him  to  remodel  "Sue."  Now  he  com- 
mitted the  first  of  the  amazing  quartet  of  errors  of 
judgment  with  regard  to  the  Thomas  plays  that  forms 
one  of  the  curious  chapters  in  his  friendship  with  this 
distinguished  American  playwright. 

209 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Thomas  had  conceived  the  idea  of  a  cycle  of  American 
plays,  based  on  the  attitude  toward  women  in  certain 
sections  of  the  country.  The  first  of  these  plays  had  been 
*' Alabama,"  the  second  "In  Mizzoura."  Thomas  now 
wrote  "Arizona"  in  this  series.  When  he  offered  the 
play  to  Frohman,  the  manager  said: 

* '  I  like  this  play,  Gus,  but  I  have  one  serious  objection 
to  it.  I  don't  see  any  big  situation  to  use  the  American 
flag.  Perhaps  I  am  superstitious  about  it.  I  have  had 
such  immense  luck  with  the  flag  in  "Shenandoah"  and 
"Held  by  the  Enemy"  that  I  have  an  instinct  that  I 
ought  not  to  do  this  play,  much  as  I  would  like  to." 

As  everybody  knows,  the  play  went  elsewhere  and 
was  one  of  the  great  successes  of  the  American  stage. 

Frohman  now  realized  his  mistake.  He  sent  for 
Thomas  and  said:  "I  want  you  to  write  me  another 
one  of  those  rough  plays." 

The  result  was  "Colorado,"  which  Frohman  put  on 
at  the  Grand  Opera  House  in  New  York  with  Wilton 
Lackaye  in  the  leading  role,  but  it  was  not  a  success. 

A  few  years  later  Frohman  made  another  of  the 
now  famous  mistakes  with  Thomas.  Thomas  had  seen 
Lawrence  D'Orsay  doing  his  usual  "silly  ass"  part  in 
a  play.  He  also  observed  that  the  play  lagged  unless 
D'Orsay  was  on  the  stage.  He  therefore  wrote  a  play 
called  "The  Earl  of  Pawtucket,"  with  D'Orsay  in  mind, 
and  Frohman  accepted  it.  When  the  time  came  to 
select  the  cast,  Thomas  suggested  D'Orsay  for  the  lead- 
ing part. 

"Impossible!"  said  Frohman.     "He  can't  do  it.'* 

Thomas  was  so  convinced  that  D'Orsay  was  the  ideal 
man  that  Frohman  made  this  characteristic  concession: 

"I  think  well  of  your  play,  and  it  will  probably  be  a 

2IO 


BIRTH    OF    THE    SYNDICATE 

success,"  he  said,  "but  I  do  not  believe  that  D' Or  say 
is  the  man  for  it.  If  you  can  get  another  manager  to 
do  it  I  will  turn  back  the  play  to  you,  and  if  you  insist 
upon  having  D'Orsay  I  will  release  him  from  his  con- 
tract with  me." 

Kirk  La  Shelle  took  the  play  and  it  was  another 
''Arizona." 

Frohman  produced  a  whole  series  of  Thomas  successes, 
notably  "The  Other  Girl,"  "Mrs.  Leffingwell's  Boots," 
and  "  De  Lancey."  To  the  end  of  his  days  the  warmest 
and  most  intimate  friendship  existed  between  the  men. 
It  was  marked  by  the  usual  humor  that  characterized 
Frohman's  relations.     Here  is  an  example: 

Thomas  conducted  the  rehearsals  of  "The  Other 
Girl"  alone.  Frohman,  who  was  up-stairs  in  his  offices 
at  the  Empire,  sent  him  a  note  on  a  yellow  pad,  written 
with  the  blue  pencil  that  he  always  used : 

"How  are  you  getting  along  at  rehearsals  without  me?" 

"Great!"  scribbled  Thomas. 

The  next  day  when  he  went  up-stairs  to  Frohman's 
office,  he  found  the  note  pinned  on  the  wall. 

Such  was  the  mood  of  the  man  who  had  risen  from 
obscurity  to  one  of  commanding  authority  in  the  whole 
English-speaking  theater. 


X 

THE    RISE    OF   ETHEL   BARRYMORE 

T^TP^WLLE  the  star  of  Maude  Adams  rose  high  in 
S^i^  the  theatrical  heaven,  another  lovely  luminary 
was  about  to  appear  over  the  horizon.  The 
moment  was  at  hand  when  Charles  Frohman  was  to  re- 
veal another  one  of  his  proteges,  this  time  the  young 
and  beautiful  Ethel  Barrymore.  It  is  an  instance  of  pro- 
gressive and  sympathetic  Frohman  sponsorship  that  gave 
the  American  stage  one  of  its  most  fascinating  favorites. 

Some  stars  are  destined  for  the  stage ;  others  are  born 
in  the  theater.  Ethel  Barrymore  is  one  of  the  latter. 
Two  generations  of  eminent  theatrical  achievement 
heralded  her  advent,  for  she  is  the  granddaughter  of 
Mrs.  John  Drew,  mistress  of  the  famous  Arch  Street 
Theater  Company  of  Philadelphia,  and  herself,  in  later 
years,  the  greatest  Mrs,  Malaprop  of  her  day.  Miss 
Barrymore 's  father  was  the  brilliant  and  gifted  Maurice 
Barrymore;  her  mother  the  no  less  witty  and  talented 
Georgia  Drew,  while,  among  other  family  distinctions, 
she  came  into  the  world  as  the  niece  of  John  Drew. 

Despite  the  royalty  of  her  theatrical  birth,  no  star  in 
America  had  to  labor  harder  or  win  her  way  by  more 
persistent  and  conscientious  effort.  At  fourteen  she  was 
playing  child's  parts  with  her  grandmother.  A  few  years 
later  she  came  to  New  York  to  get  a  start.  Though  she 
bore  one  of  the  most  distinguished  and  honored  names 

212 


RISE    OF    ETHEL    BARRYMORE 

in  the  profession,  she  sat  around  in  agents'  offices  for 
six  months,  beating  vainly  at  the  door  of  opportunity. 
Finally  she  got  a  chance  to  understudy  Elsie  De  Wolfe, 
who  was  playing  with  John  Drew,  in  "The  Bauble 
Shop,"  at  the  Empire.  One  day  when  that  actress  be- 
came ill  this  seventeen-year-old  child  played  the  part  of 
a  thirty-two-year-old  woman  with  great  success.  Under- 
studies then  became  her  fate  for  several  years.  While 
playing  a  part  on  the  road  with  her  uncle  in  "The 
Squire  of  Dames,"  Charles  Frohman  saw  her  for  the 
first  time.  He  looked  at  her  sharply,  but  said  nothing. 
Later,  during  this  engagement,  she  met  the  man  who 
was  to  shape  her  career. 

About  this  time  Miss  Barrymore  went  to  London. 
Charles  had  accepted  Haddon  Chambers's  play  "The 
Tyranny  of  Tears,"  in  which  John  Drew  was  to  star 
in  America.  She  got  the  impression  that  she  would  be 
cast  for  one  of  the  two  female  parts  in  this  play,  and 
she  studied  the  costuming  and  other  details.  With  eager 
expectancy  she  called  on  Frohman  in  London.  Much  to 
her  surprise  Frohman  said: 

"Well,  Ethel,  what  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"Won't  I  play  with  Uncle  John?"  she  said. 

"No,  I  am  sorry  to  say  you  will  not,"  replied 
Frohman. 

This  was  a  tragic  blow.  It  was  in  London  that  Miss 
Barrymore  received  this  first  great  disappointment,  and 
it  w^as  in  London  that  she  made  her  first  success.  Charles 
Frohman,  who  from  this  time  on  became  much  im- 
pressed with  her  appealing  charm  and  beauty,  gave 
her  a  small  role  with  the  company  he  sent  over  with 
Gillette  to  play  "Secret  Service"  in  the  British  capital. 
Odette  Tyler  played  the  leading  comedy  part.      One 

213 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

night  when  Miss  Barrymore  was  standing  in  the  wings 
the  stage-manager  rushed  up  to  her  and  said,  excitedly: 

"You  will  have  to  play  Miss  Tyler's  part." 

"But  I  don't  know  her  lines,"  said  Miss  Barrymore. 

"That  makes  no  difference;  you  will  have  to  play. 
She's  gone  home  sick." 

"How  about  her  costume?"  said  Miss  Barrymore. 

"Miss  Tyler  was  so  ill  that  we  could  not  ask  her  to 
change  her  costume.  She  wore  it  away  with  her,"  was 
the  reply. 

Dressed  as  she  was.  Miss  Barrymore,  who  had  watched 
the  play  carefully,  and  who  has  an  extremely  good 
memory,  walked  on,  played  the  part,  and  made  a  hit. 

When  the  "Secret  Service"  company  returned  to 
America,  Miss  Barrymore  remained  in  London.  She 
lived  in  a  small  room  alone.  Her  funds  were  low  and  she 
had  only  one  evening  gown.  But  she  had  the  Barrymore 
wit  and  charm,  her  own  beauty,  and  was  in  much 
social  demand.  By  the  time  she  prepared  to  quit  Eng- 
land the  one  gown  had  seen  its  best  days.  She  had 
arranged  to  sail  for  home  on  a  certain  Saturday.  The 
night  before  sailing  she  was  invited  to  a  supper  at  the 
home  of  Anthony  Hope.  Just  as  she  was  about  to  dress 
she  received  a  telegram  from  Ellen  Terry,  who  was 
playing  at  the  Lyceum  Theater,  saying: 

Do  come  and  say  good-by  before  you  go. 

When  she  arrived  at  the  Lyceum,  the  first  thing  that 
Miss  Terry  said  was,  "Sir  Henry  wants  to  say  good-by 
to  you." 

On  going  into  the  adjoining  dressing-room  the  great 
actor  said  to  her: 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  stay  in  England?" 

214 


RISE    OF    ETHEL    BARRYMORE 

"Of  course,"  said  Miss  Barrymore. 

"Would  you  like  to  play  with  me?"  he  asked. 

Coming  at  her  hour  of  discouragement  and  despair,  it 
was  like  manna  from  heaven.  Her  knees  quaked,  but 
she  managed  to  say,  "Y-e-s." 

"All  right,"  said  Sir  Henry.  "Go  down-stairs.  Love- 
day  has  a  contract  that  is  ready  for  you  to  sign." 

With  this  precious  contract  st tiffed  into  her  bosom, 
Miss  Barrymore  now  rode  in  triumph  to  the  Hope 
supper-party. 

"What  a  pity  that  you  have  got  to  leave  England," 
said  Sir  Herbert  Beerbohm  Tree. 

"But  I  am  going  to  stay,"  said  Miss  Barrymore. 

A  gasp  ran  around  the  table. 

"And  with  whom?"  asked  Tree. 

"With  Sir  Henry  and  Miss  Terry,"  was  the  proud 
response. 

Miss  Barrymore  played  that  whole  season  most  ac- 
ceptably with  Irving  and  Terry  in  "The  Bells"  and 
"Waterloo,"  and  afterward  with  Henry  B.  Irving  in 
"Peter  the  Great." 

When  she  returned  to  America  in  1898  she  had  a  new 
interest  for  Charles  Frohman.  Yet  the  Nemesis  of  the 
Understudy,  which  had  pursued  her  in  America,  still 
held  her  in  its  grip,  for  she  was  immediately  cast  as 
understudy  for  Ida  Conquest  in  a  play  called  "Cath- 
erine" that  Frohman  was  about  to  produce  at  the  Gar- 
rick  Theater.  She  had  several  opportunities,  however, 
to  play  the  leading  part,  and  at  her  every  appearance 
she  was  greeted  most  enthusiastically.  Her  youth  and 
appealing  beauty  never  failed  to  get  over  the  footlights. 

Frohman  was  always  impressed  by  this  sort  of  thing. 
It  was  about  this  time  that  he  said  to  a  friend  of  his  • 

215 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

**  There  is  going  to  be  a  big  development  in  one  of 
my  companies  before  long.  There's  a  daughter  of 
'Barry'  [meaning  Maurice  Barrymore]  who  gets  a  big 
reception  wherever  she  goes.  She  has  got  the  real  stuff 
in  her." 

Miss  Barrymore's  first  genuine  opportunity  came  when 
Charles  cast  her  for  the  part  of  Stella  De  Gex  in  Marshall's 
delightful  comedy  *'His  Excellency  the  Governor," 
which  was  first  put  on  at  the  Empire  in  May,  1899. 
The  grace  and  sprightliness  that  were  later  to  bloom 
so  delightfully  in  Miss  Barrymore  now  found  their  first 
real  expression.  Both  in  New  York  and  on  the  road 
she  made  a  big  success. 

While  rehearsing  ''His  Excellency  the  Governor," 
Charles  sat  in  the  darkened  auditorium  of  the  Empire 
one  day.  When  the  performance  was  over  he  walked 
back  on  the  stage  and,  patting  Miss  Barrymore  on  the 
shoulder,  said: 

''You're  so  much  like  your  mother,  Ethel.  You're 
all  right." 

Frohman  was  not  the  type  of  man  to  lag  in  interest. 
He  realized  what  the  girl's  possibilities  were,  so  early  in 
1901  he  sent  for  Miss  Barrymore  and  said  to  her: 

*' Ethel,  I  have  a  nice  part  for  you  at  last." 

It  was  the  role  of  Madame  Trentoni  in  Clyde  Fitch's 
charming  play  of  old  New  York,  "Captain  Jinks." 
Now  came  one  of  those  curious  freaks  of  theatrical 
fortune.  ''Captain  Jinks"  opened  at  the  Walnut  Street 
Theater  in  Philadelphia,  and  seemed  to  be  a  complete 
failure  from  the  start.  Although  the  Quakers  did  not  like 
the  play,  they  evinced  an  enormous  interest  in  the  lovely 
leading  woman.     From  the  gallery  they  cried  down: 

"We  loved  your  grandmother,  Ethel,  and  we  love  you." 

216 


RISE    OF    ETHEL    BARRYMORE 

It  was  a  tribute  to  the  place  that  Mrs.  John  Drew  had 
in  the  affections  of  those  staid  theater-goers. 

Despite  the  bad  start  in  Philadelphia,  Charles  believed 
in  Miss  Barrymore,  and  he  had  confidence  in  ''Captain 
Jinks."  He  brought  the  play  into  New  York  at  the 
Garrick.  The  expectation  was  that  it  might  possibly 
run  two  weeks.  Instead,  it  remained  there  for  seven 
months  and  then  played  a  complete  season  on  the  road. 

Now  came  the  turn  in  the  tide  of  Ethel  Barrymore's 
fortunes.  She  was  living  very  modestly  on  the  top 
floor  of  a  theatrical  boarding-house  in  Thirty-second 
Street.  With  the  success  of  ** Captain  Jinks"  she  moved 
down  to  a  larger  room  on  the  second  floor.  But  a  still 
greater  event  in  her  life  was  now  to  be  consummated. 

During  the  third  week  of  the  engagement  she  walked 
over  from  Thirty-second  Street  to  the  theater.  As  she 
passed  along  Sixth  Avenue  she  happened  to  look  up, 
and  there,  in  huge,  blazing  electric  lights,  she  saw  the 
name  ''Ethel  Barrymore."  She  stood  still,  and  the  tears 
came  to  her  eyes.  She  knew  that  at  last  she  had  be- 
come a  star. 

Charles  had  said  absolutely  nothing  about  it  to  her. 
It  was  his  unexpected  way  of  giving  her  the  surprise 
of  arriving  at  the  goal  of  her  ambition. 

The  next  day  she  went  to  Frohman  and  said,  **It 
was  a  wonderful  thing  for  you  to  do." 

Whereupon  Frohman  replied,  very  simply,  **It  was 
the  only  thing  to  do." 

Ethel  Barrymore  was  now  a  star,  and  from  this  time 
on  her  stage  career  became  one  cycle  of  ripening  art  a,nd 
expanding  success.  A  new  luminary  had  entered  the 
Frohman  heaven,  and  it  was  to  twinkle  with  increasing 
brilliancy. 

15  217 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Her  next  appearance  was  in  a  double  bill,  *'A  Country 
Mouse"  and  ''Carrots,"  at  the  Savoy  Theater,  in  Octo- 
ber, 1902.  Here  came  one  of  the  first  evidences  of  her 
versatility.  ''A  Country  Mouse"  was  a  comedy;  "Car- 
rots," on  the  other  hand,  was  impregnated  "with  the 
deepest  tragedy.  Miss  B anymore  played  the  part  of  a 
sad  little  boy,  and  she  did  it  with  such  depth  of  feeling 
that  discriminating  people  began  to  reaHze  that  she  had 
great  emotional  possibilities. 

Her  appearance  in  "Cousin  Kate"  the  next  year  was 
a  return  to  comedy.  In  this  play  Bruce  McRae  made 
his  first  appearance  with  her  as  leading  man,  and  he 
filled  this  position  for  a  number  of  years.  He  was  as 
perfect  an  opposite  to  her  as  was  John  Drew  to  Ada 
Rehan.  Together  they  made  a  combination  that  was 
altogether  delightful. 

It  was  while  playing  in  a  piece  called  "Sunday"  that 
Miss  Barrymore  first  read  Ibsen's  "A  Doll's  House." 
She  was  immensely  thrilled  by  the  character.  She  said 
to  Frohman  at  once:    "I  must  do  this  part.     May  I?" 

"Of  course,"  he  said. 

Here  was  another  revelation  of  the  Barrymore  versa- 
tility, for  she  invested  this  strange,  weird  expression  of 
Ibsen's  genius  with  a  range  of  feeling  and  touch  of 
character  that  made  a  deep  impression. 

Charles  now  secured  the  manuscript  of  "Alice-Sit-By- 
the-Fire."  He  was  immensely  taken  with  this  play, 
not  only  because  it  was  by  his  friend  Barrie,  but  because 
he  saw  in  it  large  possibiHties.  Miss  Barrymore  was 
with  him  in  London  at  this  time.  Frohman  told  her  the 
story  of  the  play  in  his  rooms  at  the  Savoy,  acting  it 
out  as  he  always  did  with  his  plays.  There  were  two 
important  women  characters:    the  mother,  played  in 

218 


RISE    OF    ETHEL    BARRYMORE 

London  by  Ellen  Terry,  who  philosophically  accepts 
the  verdict  of  the  years,  and  the  daughter,  played  by 
the  popular  leading  woman  Irene  Vanbrugh,  who  steps 
into  her  place. 

"Would  you  like  to  play  in  'Alice'? "  asked  Frohman. 

''Yes,"  said  Miss  B anymore. 

"Which  part?" 

"I  would  rather  have  you  say,"  said  Miss  Barrymore. 

Just  then  the  telephone-bell  rang.  Barrie  had  called 
up  Frohman  to  find  out  if  he  had  cast  the  play. 

"I  was  just  talking  it  over  with  Miss  Barrymore,*' 
he  replied. 

Then  there  was  a  pause.  Suddenly  Frohman  turned 
from  the  telephone  and  said: 

"Barrie  wants  you  to  play  the  mother." 

"Fine!"  said  Miss  Barrymore.  "That  is  just  the 
part  I  wanted  to  do." 

In  "Alice-Sit-By-the-Fire"  Miss  Barrymore  did  a 
very  daring  thing.  Here  was  an  exquisite  young  woman 
who  was  perfectly  willing  to  play  the  part  of  the  mother 
of  a  boy  of  eighteen  rather  than  the  younger  role, 
and  she  did  it  with  such  artistic  distinction  that  Barrie 
afterward  said  of  her: 

"I  knew  I  was  right  when  I  wanted  her  to  play  the 
mother.     I  felt  that  she  would  understand  the  part." 

"Alice-Sit-By-the-Fire"  was  done  as  a  double  bill 
with  "Pantaloon,"  in  which  Miss  Barrymore's  brother, 
John  Barrymore,  who  was  now  coming  to  be  recognized 
as  a  very  gifted  young  actor,  scored  a  big  success. 
Later  another  brother,  Lionel,  himself  a  brilliant  son 
of  his  father,  appeared  with  her. 

The  theater-going  world  was  now  beginning  to  look 
upon  Ethel  Barrymore  as  one  of  the  really  charming 

219 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

fixtures  of  the  stage.  What  impressed  every  one,  most 
of  all  Charles  Frohman,  was  the  extraordinary  ease 
with  which  she  fairly  leaped  from  lightsome  comedy  to 
deep  and  haunting  pathos.  Her  work  in  "The  Silver 
Box,"  by  John  Galsworthy,  was  a  conspicuous  example 
of  this  talent.  Frohman  gave  the  manuscript  of  the  play 
to  Miss  Barry  more  to  read  and  she  was  deeply  moved 
by  it. 

"Can't  we  do  it?"  she  said. 

"It  is  very  tragic,"  said  Frohman. 

"I  don't  mind,"  said  Miss  Barrymore.  **I  want  to 
do  it  so  much!  " 

In  "The  Silver  Box"  she  took  the  part  of  a  char- 
woman whose  life  moves  in  piteous  tragedy.  It  registered 
what,  up  to  that  time,  was  the  most  poignant  note  that 
this  gifted  young  woman  had  uttered.  Yet  the  very 
next  season  she  turned  to  a  typical  Clyde  Fitch  play, 
"Her  Sister,"  and  disported  herself  in  charming  frocks 
and  smart  drawing-room  conversation. 

Miss  Barry  more 's  career  justified  every  confidence  that 
Charles  had  felt  for  her.  It  remained,  however,  for 
Pinero's  superb  if  darksome  play  "Midchannel"  to 
give  her  her  largest  opportunity. 

When  Frohman  told  her  about  this  play  he  said: 
"Ethel,  I  have  a  big  play,  but  it  is  dark  and  sad.  I 
don't  think  you  want  to  do  it." 

After  she  had  heard  the  story  she  said,  impulsively: 
"You  are  wrong.    I  want  to  play  this  part  very  much." 

"All  right,"  said  Frohman.     "Go  ahead." 

As  Zoe  BlundeU  she  had  a  triumph.  In  this  character 
she  was  artistically  reborn.  The  sweetness  and  girlish- 
ness  now  stood  aside  in  the  presence  of  a  somber  and 

220 


ETHEL  BARRY  MO  RE 


RISE    OF    ETHEL    BARRYMORE 

haunting  tragedy  that  was  real.  Aliss  Barrymore  lit- 
erally made  the  critics  sit  up.  It  recorded  a  distinct 
epoch  in  her  career,  and,  as  in  other  instances  with  a 
Pinero  play,  the  American  success  far  exceeded  its 
English  popularity. 

When  Miss  Barrymore  did  ''The  Twelve-Pound  Look, " 
by  Barrie,  the  following  year,  she  only  added  to  the  con- 
viction that  she  was  in  many  respects  the  most  versatile 
and  gifted  of  the  younger  American  actresses.  Froh- 
man  loved  *'The  Twelve-Pound  Look"  as  he  loved 
few  plays.  Its  only  rival  in  his  regard  was  ''Peter  Pan." 
He  went  to  every  rehearsal,  he  saw  it  at  every  possible 
opportunity.  Like  most  others,  he  realized  that  into  this 
one  act  of  intense  life  was  crowded  all  the  human  drama, 
all  the  human  tragedy. 

Miss  Barrymore  now  sped  from  grave  to  gay.  When 
the  time  came  for  her  to  rehearse  Barrie 's  fascinating 
skit,  "A  Slice  of  Life,"  Frohman  was  ill  at  the  Knicker- 
bocker Hotel.  He  was  very  much  interested  in  this 
little  play,  so  the  rehearsals  were  held  in  his  rooms  at 
the  hotel.  There  were  only  three  people  in  the  cast — 
Miss  Barrymore,  her  brother  John,  and  Hattie  Williams. 
It  was  so  excruciatingly  funny  that  Frohman  would 
often  call  up  the  Empire  and  say: 

"Send  Ethel  over  to  rehearse.  I  want  to  forget  my 
pains." 

Charles  Frohman  lived  to  see  his  great  expectations 
of  Ethel  Barrymore  realized.  He  found  her  the  winsome 
slip  of  a  fascinating  girl;  he  last  beheld  her  in  the  full 
flower  of  her  maturing  art.  He  was  very  much  interested 
in  her  transition  from  the  seriousness  of  "The  Shadow" 
into  the  wholesome  humor  and  womanliness  of  ' '  Our 
Mrs.  McChesney,"  a  part  he  had  planned  for  her  before 

221 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

his  final  departure.  It  was  one  of  the  many  swift 
changes  that  Miss  Barrymore  has  made,  and  had  he 
Hved  he  would  have  found  still  another  cause  for  infinite 
satisfaction  with  her. 

Another  star  now  swam  into  the  Frohman  ken.  This 
was  the  way  of  it : 

Paul  Potter  was  making  a  periodical  visit  to  New 
York  in  1901.  David  Belasco  came  to  see  him  at  the 
Holland  House. 

"Paul,"  said  he,  "C.  F.  and  I  want  you  to  make  us  a 
version  of  Ouida's  'Under  Two  Flags'  for  Blanche  Bates." 

*'I  never  read  the  novel,"  said  Potter. 

"You  can  dramatize  it  without  reading  it,"  remarked 
Belasco,  and  in  a  month  he  was  sitting  in  Frohman 's 
rooms  at  Sherry's  and  Potter  was  reading  to  them  his 
dramatization  of  "Under  Two  Flags,"  throwing  in,  for 
good  measure,  a  ride  from  "Mazeppa"  and  a  snow-storm 
from  "The  Queen  of  Sheba." 

"I  like  all  but  the  last  scene,"  said  Frohman.  "When 
Cigarette  rides  up  those  mountains  with  her  lover's 
pardon,  the  pardon  is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
delivered.  The  actual  deHvery  is  an  anti-climax.  What 
the  audience  want  to  see  is  a  return  to  the  garret 
where  the  lovers  lived  and  were  happy.'* 

As  they  walked  home  that  night  Belasco  said  to  Potter : 

"That  was  a  great  point  which  C.  F.  made.  What 
remarkable  intuition  he  has!" 

Frohman  and  Potter  used  to  watch  Belasco  at  work, 
teaching  the   actors   to  act,   the   singers   to   sing,   the 
dancers  to  dance. 
Then  came  a  hitch. 
^'Gtqs,  Qur  ^cene-painter,"  said  FrohmaUj  *'ni^int^in§ 


RISE    OF    ETHEL    BARRYMORE 

that  Cigarette  couldn't  ride  up  any  mountains  near 
the  Algerian  coast,  for  the  nearest  mountains  are  the 
Atlas  Mountains,  eight  hundred  miles  away." 

He  undertook  to  convert  Mr.  Gros.  Fortunately  for 
him  the  author  of  the  play  stood  in  the  Garden  Theater 
while  Belasco  was  rehearsing  a  dance. 

'*0h,"  said  he,  "if  it's  a  comic  opera  you  can  have 
all  the  mountains  you  please.  I  thought  it  was  a  serious 
drama." 

Then  Frohman  ventured  to  criticize  the  mountain 
torrent. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  torrent?"  called  Belasco, 
while  Cigarette  and  her  horse  stood  on  the  slope. 

"It  doesn't  look  like  water  at  all,"  said  Frohman. 

Just  then  the  horse  plunged  his  nose  into  the  torrent 
and  licked  it  furiously.  Criticism  was  silenced.  The 
play  was  a  big,  popular  success,  and  with  it  Blanche 
Bates  arrived  as  star. 

One  day,  a  year  later,  Frohman  remarked  to  Potter 
in  Paris,  "What  do  you  say  to  paying  Ouida  a  visit  in 
Florence?" 

He  and  Belasco  had  paid  her  considerable  royalties. 
He  thought  she  would  be  gratified  by  a  friendly  call. 
Frohman  and  Potter  obtained  letters  of  introduction 
from  bankers,  consuls,  and  Florentine  notables,  and  sent 
them  in  advance  to  Ouida.  The  landlord  of  the  inn  gave 
them  a  resplendent  two-horse  carriage,  with  a  liveried 
coachman  and  a  footman.  Frohman  objected  to  the 
footman  as  undemocratic.  The  landlord  insisted  that 
it  was  Florentine  etiquette,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders 
when  they  departed,  seeming  to  think  that  they  were 
bound  on  a  perilous  journey. 

Through  the  perfumed,  flower-laden  hills  they  glimb^cl, 

22J 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

the  Amo  gleaming  below.  The  footman  took  in  their 
cards  to  the  villa  of  Mile,  de  la  Ramee.  He  promptly- 
returned. 

*'The  signora  is  indisposed,"  he  remarked. 

The  visitors  sent  him  back  to  ask  if  they  might  come 
some  other  day.    Again  he  returned. 

"The  signora  is  indisposed,"  was  the  only  answer  he 
could  get. 

Potter  and  Frohman  drove  away.  Frohman  was  hurt. 
He  did  not  try  to  conceal  it. 

''That's  the  first  author,"  he  said,  *' who  ever  turned  me 
down.  Anyway,  the  pancakes  at  lunch  were  delicious." 
He  met  rebuff — as  he  met  loss — with  infinite  humor. 

Stars  now  crowded  quick  and  fast  into  the  Frohman 
firmament.  Next  came  Virginia  Harned.  Daniel  Froh- 
man had  seen  her  in  a  traveling  company  at  the  Four- 
teenth Street  Theater  and  engaged  her  to  support  E. 
H.  Sothem.  She  later  came  under  Charles's  control, 
and  he  presented  her  as  star  in  ''Alice  of  Old  Vincennes," 
"Iris,"  and  "The  Light  that  Lies  in  Woman's  Eyes." 

Effie  Shannon  and  Herbert  Kelcey  followed.  Their 
first  venture  with  him,  "Manon  Lescant,"  was  a  direful 
failure,  but  it  was  followed  up  with  "My  Lady  Dainty," 
which  was  a  success. 

Charles  Frohman  had  various  formulas  for  making  stars. 
Some  he  discovered  outright,  others  he  developed.  Here 
is  an  example  of  his  Christopher  Columbus  proclivities : 

One  day  he  heard  that  there  was  a  very  brilliant 
young  Hungarian  actor  playing  a  small  part  down  at 
the  Irving  Place  German  Theater  in  New  York  City. 
He  went  to  see  him,  was  very  much  impressed  with  his 
ability,  sent  for  him,  and  said: 

224 


1  ^f^'v^ 

■■".*.     '^.^f     :     V' 

F^ 

T^::^  1 

4^  1 

-Ir  1 

■■;* 

\ 

/t/I/^  MARLOWE 


RISE    OF    ETHEL    BARRYMORE 

' '  If  you  will  study  English  I  will  agree  to  take  care  of 
you  on  the  English-speaking  stage." 

The  man  assented,  and  Frohman  paid  him  a  salary 
all  the  while  he  was  studying  English.  Before  many 
years  he  was  a  well-known  star.  His  name  was  Leo 
Ditrichstein. 

Frohman  now  got  Ditrichstein  to  adapt  "Are  You  a 
Mason?"  from  the  German,  put  it  on  at  Wallack's 
Theater,  and  it  was  a  huge  success.  Besides  Ditrich- 
stein, this  cast,  which  was  a  very  notable  one,  included 
John  C.  Rice,  Thomas  W.  Wise,  May  Robson,  Arnold 
Daly,  Cecil  De  Mille,  and  Sallie  Cohen,  who  had  played 
Topsy  in  the  stranded  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  Company, 
whose  advance  fortunes  Frohman  had  piloted  in  his  pre- 
carious days  on  the  road. 

Just  as  Frohman  led  the  American  invasion  in  Eng- 
land, so  did  he  now  bring  about  the  English  invasion 
of  America.  He  had  inaugurated  it  with  Olga  Nether- 
sole.  He  now  introduced  to  American  theater-goers 
such  artists  as  Charles  Hawtrey,  Mrs.  Patrick  Campbell, 
Charles  Warner,  Sir  Charles  Wyndham,  Mary  Moore, 
Marie  Tempest,  and  Fay  Davis,  in  whose  career  he  was 
enormously  interested.  He  starred  Miss  Davis  in  a 
group  of  plays  ranging  from  ''Lady  Rose's  Daughter" 
to  ''The  House  of  Mirth." 

In  connection  with  Mrs.  Campbell's  first  tour  oc- 
curred another  one  of  the  famous  Frohman  examples  of 
quick  retort.  He  was  rehearsing  this  highly  tempera- 
mental lady,  and  made  a  constructive  criticism  which 
nettled  her  very  much.  She  became  indignant,  called 
him  to  the  footlights,  and  said : 

"I  want  you  to  know  that  I  am  an  artist?" 

Frohman,  with  solemn  face,  instantly  replied: 

225 


{/ 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

''Madam,  I  will  keep  your  secret." 

One  of  the  early  English  importations  revealed  Froh- 
man's  utterly  uncommercialized  attitude  toward  the 
theater.  He  was  greatly  taken  with  the  miracle  play 
"Everyman,"  and  brought  over  Edith  Wynne  Mathison 
and  Charles  Rann  Kennedy  to  do  it.  He  was  unable 
to  get  a  theater,  so  he  put  them  in  Mendelssohn  Hall. 

"You'll  make  no  money  with  them  there,"  said  a 
friend  to  him. 

"I  don't  expect  to  make  any,"  replied  Frohman, 
"but  I  want  the  American  people  to  see  this  fine  and 
worthy  thing." 

The  play  drew  small  audiences  for  some  time.  Then, 
becoming  the  talk  of  the  town,  it  went  on  tour  and  repaid 
him  with  a  profit  on  his  early  loss. 

One  of  the  happiest  of  Charles  Frohman's  theatrical 
associations  now  developed.  In  1903,  when  the  famous 
Weber  and  Fields  organization  seemed  to  be  headed 
toward  dissolution,  Charles  DilHngham  suggested  to 
Willie  Collier  that  he  go  under  the  Frohman  manage- 
ment. Collier  went  to  the  Empire  Theater  and  was 
ushered  into  Frohman's  office. 

"It  took  you  a  long  time  to  get  up  here,"  said  the 
magnate.  "How  would  you  like  to  go  under  my  man- 
agement?" 

"Well,"  replied  Collier,  with  his  usual  humor,  "I 
didn't  come  up  here  to  buy  a  new  hat." 

The  result  was  that  Collier  became  a  Frohman  star  and 
remained  one  for  eleven  years.  He  and  Frohman  were 
constantly  exchanging  witty  telegrams  and  letters.  Froh- 
man sent  Collier  to  Australia.  At  San  Francisco  the  star 
f ncQuntered  th^  famous  earthquake,   He  wired  Frohman ; 


RISE    OF    ETHEL    BARRYMORE 

"San  Francisco  has  just  had  the  biggest  opening  in 
its  history." 

Whereupon  Frohman,  who  had  not  yet  learned  the 
full  extent  of  the  calamity,  wired  back: 

"Don't  like  openings  with  so  many  'dead-heads.'" 

All  the  while,  William  Gillette  had  been  thriving  as  a 
Frohman  star.  Like  many  other  serious  actors,  he  had 
an  ambition  to  play  Hamlet.  With  Frohman  the  wishes 
of  his  favorite  stars  were  commands,  so  he  proceeded 
to  make  ready  a  production.  Suddenly  Barrie's  remark- 
able play  "The  Admirable  Crichton"  fell  into  his  hands. 
He  sent  for  Gillette  and  said : 

"Gillette,  I  am  perfectly  wilHng  that  you  should  play 
Hamlet,  but  I  have  just  got  from  Barrie  the  ideal  play 
for  you." 

When  Gillette  read  "The  Admirable  Crichton,"  he 
agreed  with  Frohman,  and  out  of  it  developed  one  of 
his  biggest  successes.  "Hamlet,"  with  its  elaborate 
production,  still  awaits  Gillette. 

In  presenting  Clara  Bloodgood  as  star  in  Clyde 
Fitch's  play  "The  Girl  with  the  Green  Eyes,"  Frohman 
achieved  another  one  of  his  many  sensations.  The 
smart,  charming  girl  who  had  made  her  debut  under 
sensational  circumstances  in  "The  Conquerors,"  now 
saw  her  name  up  in  electric  lights  for  the  first  time. 
Frohman 's  confidence  in  her,  as  in  many  of  his  proteges, 
was  more  than  fulfilled. 

Charles  Frohman,  who  loved  to  dazzle  the  world  with 
his  Napoleonic  coups,  launched  what  was  up  to  this 
timPi  and  which  will  long  remain,  the  most  spectacular 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

of  theatrical  deals.  He  greatly  admired  E.  H.  Sothern, 
who  had  been  associated  with  him  in  some  of  his  early 
ventures.  The  years  that  Julia  Marlowe  had  played 
under  his  joint  management  had  endeared  her  to  him. 
One  day  he  had  an  inspiration.  There  had  been  no  big 
Shakespearian  revival  for  some  time,  so  he  said: 

"Why  not  unite  Sothern  and  Marlowe  and  tour  the 
country  in  a  series  of  magnificent  Shakespearian  pro- 
ductions?" 

At  that  time  Julia  Marlowe  had  reverted  to  the 
control  of  Charles  Dillingham,  while  Sothern  was  still 
under  the  management  of  Daniel  Frohman.  Charles 
now  brought  the  stars  together,  offered  them  a  guarantee 
of  $5,000  a  week  for  a  forty  weeks*  engagement  and 
for  three  seasons.  In  other  words,  he  pledged  these 
two  stars  the  immense  sum  of  $200,000  for  each  season, 
which  was  beyond  doubt  the  largest  guarantee  of  the 
kind  ever  made  in  the  history  of  the  American  theater. 

It  was  just  about  this  time  that  Joseph  Humphreys, 
Frohman' s  seasoned  general  stage-manager,  succumbed 
to  the  terrific  strain  under  which  he  had  worked  all 
these  years,  as  both  actor  and  producer.  William 
Seymour  stepped  into  his  shoes,  and  has  retained  that 
position  ever  since. 

Charles  was  constantly  bringing  about  revolutions. 
Through  him  Francis  Wilson,  for  example,  departed 
from  musical  comedy,  in  which  he  had  made  a  great 
success,  and  took  up  straight  plays.  He  began  with 
Clyde  Fitch's  French  adaptation  of  ''Cousin  Billy," 
and  thus  commenced  a  connection  under  Charles  Froh- 
man that  lasted  many  years.  With  him,  as  with  all  his 
other  stars,  there  was  never  a  scrap  of  paper. 

Frohman  and  Wilson  met  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  in  Lon- 

228 


E.  H.  SOTHERN 


RISE    OF    ETHEL    BARRYMORE 

don  one  day.  Frohman  had  often  urged  him  to  quit 
musical  comedy,  and  he  now  said  he  was  ready  to  make 
the  plunge. 

''All  right,"  said  Frohman.  ''I  will  give  you  so  much 
a  week  and  a  percentage  of  the  profits." 

"It's  done,"  said  Wilson. 

''Do  you  want  a  contract?"  asked  Frohman. 

"No." 

This  was  about  all  that  ever  happened  in  the  way  of 
arrangements  between  Frohman  and  his  stars,  to  some 
of  whom  he  paid  fortunes. 

During  these  years  Charles  had  watched  with  growing 
interest  the  development  of  a  young  girl  from  Blooming- 
ton,  Illinois,  Margaret  Illington  by  name.  She  had 
appeared  successfully  in  the  old  Lyceum  Stock  Company 
when  it  was  transferred  by  Daniel  Frohman  to  Daly's, 
and  had  played  with  James  K.  Hackett  and  E.  H. 
Sothern.  Charles  now  cast  her  in  Pinero's  play  "A 
Wife  Without  a  Smile."  Afterward  she  appeared  in 
Augustus  Thomas's  piece  "Mrs.  Leffingwell's  Boots," 
and  made  such  a  strong  impression  that  Frohman  made 
her  leading  woman  with  John  Drew  in  Pinero's  "His 
House  in  Order." 

Just  about  this  time  Charles,  whose  interest  in  French 
plays  had  constantly  increased  through  the  years,  singled 
out  Henri  Bernstein  as  the  foremost  of  the  younger 
French  playwrights.  He  secured  his  remarkable  play 
"The  Thief  "  for  America.  He  now  produced  this  play 
at  the  Lyceum  with  Miss  Illington  and  Kyrle  Bellew  as 
co-stars,  and  it  proved  to  be  an  enormous  success,  con- 
tinuing there  for  a  whole  season,  and  then  duplicating  its 
triumph  on  the  road,  where  Frohman  at  one  time  had  four 
companies  playing  it  in  various  parts  of  the  country. 

229 


XI 

THE  CONQUEST  OF  THE  LONDON  STAGE 

y^^REAT  as  were  Charles  Frohman*s  achievements 
■  Tr  in  America,  they  were  more  than  matched  in 
many  respects  by  his  activities  in  England.  He 
was  the  one  American  manager  who  made  an  impress 
on  the  British  drama;  he  led  the  so-called  "American 
invasion.'*  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  the  invasion. 
No  phase  of  his  fascinatingly  crowded  and  adventurous 
career  reflects  so  much  of  the  genius  of  the  man,  or  re- 
veals so  many  of  his  finer  quaHties,  as  his  costly  attempt 
to  corner  the  British  stage.  Here,  as  in  no  other  work, 
he  showed  himself  in  really  Napoleonic  proportions. 

Behind  Charles's  tremendous  operations  in  London 
were  three  definite  motives.  First  of  all,  he  really  loved 
England.  He  felt  that  the  theater  there  had  a  dignity 
and  a  distinction  far  removed  from  theatrical  production 
in  America.  There  was  no  sneer  of  "comxmercialism" 
about  it.  To  be  identified  with  the  stage  in  England 
was  something  to  be  proud  of.  He  often  said  that  he 
would  rather  make  fifteen  pounds  in  London  than 
fifteen  thousand  dollars  in  America.  It  summed  up 
his  whole  attitude  toward  the  theater  in  Great  Britain. 

In  the  second  place,  he  knew  that  a  strong  footing  in 
England  was  absolutely  necessary  to  a  mastery  of  the 
situation  in  America.  Just  as  important  as  any  of  his 
other  reasons  was  the  conviction  in  his  own  mind  that 

230 


CONQUEST  OF  LONDON  STAGE 

to  produce  the  best  English-speaking  plays  in  the 
United  States  he  must  know  English  playwrights  and 
English  authors  on  their  own  ground,  and  to  produce, 
if  possible,  their  own  works  on  their  home  stages. 

This  latter  desire  led  him  to  the  long  and  brilliant 
series  of  productions  that  he  made  in  London,  and  which 
amounted  to  what  later  became  an  almost  complete 
monopoly  on  British  dramatic  output  for  the  United 
States. 

The  net  result  was  that  he  became  a  sort  of  Colossus 
of  the  English-speaking  theater.  Figuratively,  he  stood 
astride  the  mighty  sea  in  which  he  was  to  meet  his 
death,  with  one  foot  planted  securely  in  England  and 
the  other  in  New  York. 

Charles's  first  visits  to  England  were  made  in  the  most 
unostentatious  way,  largely  to  look  over  the  ground 
and  see  what  he  could  pick  up  for  America.  His  first 
offices  in  Henrietta  Street  were  very  modest  rooms. 
Unpretentious  as  they  were,  they  represented  a  some- 
what historic  step,  because  Frohman  was  absolutely  the 
first  American  manager  to  set  up  a  business  in  England. 
Augustin  Daly  had  taken  over  a  company,  but  he 
alHed  himself  in  no  general  way  with  British  theatrical 
interests. 

When  Frohman  first  engaged  W.  Lestocq  as  his  English 
manager,  as  has  already  been  recorded,  he  made  a 
significant  remark: 

''You  know  I  am  coming  into  London  to  produce 
plays.  But  I  am  coming  in  by  the  back  door.  I  shall 
get  to  the  front  door,  however,  and  you  shall  come  with 
me. 

No  sooner  had  he  set  foot  in  London  than  his  produc- 

231 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

tive  activities  were  turned  loose.  With  A.  and  S. 
Gatti  he  put  on  one  of  his  New  York  successes,  ''The 
Lost  Paradise,"  at  the  Adelphi  Theater.  In  this  in- 
stance he  merely  furnished  the  play.  It  failed,  however. 
Far  from  discouraging  Frohman,  it  only  filled  him  with 
a  desire  to  do  something  big. 

This  play  marked  the  beginning  of  one  of  his  most 
important  English  connections.  The  Gattis,  as  they 
were  known  in  England,  were  prominent  figures  in  the 
British  theater.  They  were  Swiss-Italians  who  had 
begun  life  in  England  as  waiters,  had  established  a  small 
eating-house,  and  had  risen  to  become  the  most  impor- 
tant restaurateurs  of  the  British  capital.  They  became 
large  realty-owners,  spread  out  to  the  theater,  and 
acquired  the  Adelphi  and  the  Vaudeville. 

Charles  Frohman 's  arrangement  with  them  was  typical 
of  all  his  business  transactions.  Some  years  afterward  a 
weU-known  English  playwright  asked  Stephen  Gatti: 

What  is  your  contract  with  Frohman?" 

''We  have  none.  When  we  want  an  agreement  from 
Charles  Frohman  about  a  business  transaction  it  is 
time  to  stop,"  was  his  reply. 

With  the  production  of  a  French  farce  called  "A 
Night  Out,"  which  was  done  at  the  Vaudeville  Theater 
in  1896,  Frohman  began  his  long  and  intimate  associa- 
tion with  George  Edwardes.  This  man's  name  was 
synonymous  with  musical  comedy  throughout  the  amuse- 
ment w^orld.  As  managing  director  of  the  London 
Gaiety  Theater,  the  most  famous  musical  theater  an}^- 
where,  he  occupied  a  unique  position.  Charles  was  the 
principal  American  importer  of  the  Gaiety  shows,  and 
through  this  and  various  other  connections  he  had 
much  to  do  with  Edwardes. 

232 


CONQUEST  OF  LONDON  STAGE 

Frohman  and  Edwardes  were  the  joint  producers  of 
"A  Night  Out,"  and  it  brought  to  Charles  his  first 
taste  of  London  success.  This  was  the  only  play  in  Lon- 
don in  which  he  ever  sold  his  interest.  Out  of  this  sale 
grew  a  curious  example  of  Frohman's  disregard  of  money. 
For  his  share  he  received  a  check  of  four  figures.  He 
carried  it  around  in  his  pocket  for  weeks.  After  it  had 
become  all  crumpled  up,  Lestocq  persuaded  him  to  de- 
posit it  in  the  bank.  Only  when  the  check  was  almost 
reduced  to  shreds  did  he  consent  to  open  an  account 
with  it. 

It  remained  for  an  American  play,  presenting  an  Amer- 
ican star,  to  give  Charles  his  first  real  triumph  in  Lon- 
don. With  the  production  of  ''Secret  Service,"  in  1897, 
at  the  Adelphi  Theater,  he  became  the  real  envoy  from 
the  New  World  of  plays  to  the  Old.  It  was  an  am- 
bassadorship that  gave  him  an  infinite  pride,  for  it 
brought  fame  and  fortune  to  the  American  playwright 
and  the  American  actor  abroad.  Frohman's  envoy- 
ship  was  as  advantageous  to  England  as  it  was  to  the 
United  States,  because  he  was  the  instrument  through 
which  the  best  of  the  modern  English  plays  and  the 
most  brilHant  of  the  modern  English  actors  found  their 
hearing  on  this  side  of  the  water. 

Frohman  was  immensely  interested  in  the  EngHsh 
production  of  ''Secret  Service."  Gillette  himself  headed 
the  company.  Both  he  and  Frohman  were  in  a  great 
state  of  expectancy.  The  play  hung  fire  until  the  third 
act.  When  the  big  scene  came  British  reserve  melted 
and  there  was  a  great  ovation.  It  was  an  immediate 
success  and  had  a  long  run. 

One  feature  of  the  play  that  amused  the  critics  and 
16  233 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

theater-goers  generally  in  London  was  the  fact  that  the 
spy  in  "Secret  Service,"  who  was  supposed  to  be  the 
bad  man  of  the  play,  received  all  the  sympathy  and  the 
applause,  while  the  hero  was  arrested  and  always  had 
the  worst  of  it,  even  when  he  was  denouncing  the  spy. 
Gillette's  quiet  but  forceful  style  of  acting  was  a  revelation 
to  the  Londoners. 

It  was  during  this  engagement  that  an  intimate  friend 
said  to  Terriss,  the  great  English  actor  who  was  distin- 
guished for  his  impulsiveness: 

"Chain  yourself  to  a  seat  at  the  Adelphi  some  night 
and  learn  artistic  repose  from  Gillette." 

Concerning  the  first  night  of  "Secret  Service"  is 
another  one  of  the  many  Frohman  stories.  When  a 
London  newspaper  man  asked  the  American  manager 
about  the  magnificent  celebration  that  he  was  sure  had 
been  held  to  commemorate  Gillette's  triumph,  Frohman 
said: 

"There  was  nothing  of  the  sort.  Mr.  Dillingham, 
my  manager,  and  I  joined  Mr.  Gillette  in  his  rooms  at 
the  Savoy.  We  had  some  sandwiches  and  wine  and 
then  played  'hearts'  for  several  hours." 

This  episode  inspired  Frohman  to  give  utterance  to 
what  was  the  very  key-note  of  his  philosophy  about 
an  actor  and  his  work.  Talking  with  a  friend  in  England 
shortly  after  the  opening  of  "Secret  Service,"  about  the 
modest  way  in  which  Gillette  regarded  his  success, 
he  said: 

"Nothing  so  kills  the  healthy  growth  of  an  actor  and 
brings  his  usefulness  to  an  end  so  soon,  as  the  idea  that 
social  enjoyment  is  a  means  to  public  success,  and  that 
industrious  labor  to  improve  himself  is  no  longer  neces- 
sary." 

234 


ELSIE  FERGUSON 


CONQUEST  OF  LONDON  STAGE 

Frohman  always  regarded  the  success  of  "Secret 
Service"  as  the  comer-stone  of  his  great  achievements 
in  England.    Once,  in  speaking  of  this  star's  hit,  he  said: 

"You  know,  what  tickles  me  is  the  fact  that  it  was 
left  for  England  to  discover  that  Gillette  is  a  great 
actor.     It's  one  on  America." 

A  few  years  later,  Frohman  made  his  first  Paris 
production  with  "Secret  Service."  The  masterful  little 
man  always  regarded  the  world  as  his  field;  hence  the 
annexation  of  Paris.  He  had  a  version  made  by  Paul 
de  Decourcelle,  and  the  play  was  put  on  at  the  Renais- 
sance Theater.  Guitry,  the  great  French  actor,  played 
Gillette's  part.  A  very  brilliant  audience  saw  the  open- 
ing performance,  but  the  French  did  not  get  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  play.  They  could  not  determine  whether 
it  was  serious  or  comic.  The  character  of  General  Nelson 
was  almost  entirely  omitted  in  the  play  because  the 
actors  themselves  could  not  tell  whether  it  was  humor 
or  tragedy.  Besides,  the  French  actors  wanted  to  do  it 
their  own  way. 

Dillingham,  who  had  charge  of  the  production  in 
Paris,  realizing  on  the  opening  night  that  it  would  be 
a  failure,  and  knowing  that  he  had  to  send  Frohman 
some  sort  of  telegram,  cabled,  with  his  customary  himior, 
the  following: 

The  tomb  oj  Napoleon  looks  beauiijul  in  the 
moonlight. 

As  was  the  case  in  England,  Charles  was  the  only 
American  manager  who  made  any  impression  upon  the 
French  drama.  From  his  earliest  producing  days  he 
had  a  weakness  for  producing  adapted  French  plays. 

235 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

From  France  came  some  of  his  hugest  successes,  espe- 
cially those  of  Bernstein.  He  ** bulled"  the  French 
market  on  prices.  The  French  playwright  hailed  him 
with  joy,  for  he  always  left  a  small  fortune  behind  him. 
Having  established  a  precedent  with  Gillette,  he  now 
presented  his  first  American  woman  star  in  England. 
It  was  Annie  Russell  in  Bret  Harte's  story  *'Sue." 
He  was  very  fond  of  this  play,  having  already  produced 
it  in  the  United  States,  and  he  was  very  proud  of  the 
impression  that  Miss  Russell  made  in  London. 

Up  to  this  time  Frohman  had  made  his  English  pro- 
ductions in  conjunction  with  the  Gattis  or  George 
Edwardes  at  the  Adelphi,  the  Vaudeville,  or  the  Garrick 
theaters.  This  would  have  satisfied  most  people.  But 
Frohman,  who  wanted  to  do  things  in  a  big  way,  natu- 
rally desired  his  own  English  theater,  where  he  could 
unfurl  his  own  banner  and  do  as  he  pleased. 

Early  in  1897,  therefore,  he  took  what  was  up  to  that 
time  his  biggest  English  step,  for  he  leased  the  Duke 
of  York's  Theater  for  nineteen  years.  His  name  went 
over  the  door^vay  and  from  that  time  on  this  theater 
was  the  very  nerve-center,  if  not  the  soul,  of  Charles 
Frohman's  English  operations.  It  was  one  of  the  best 
known  and  the  most  substantial  of  British  playhouses, 
located  in  St.  Martin's  Lane,  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
theatrical  district.  He  took  a  vast  pride  in  his  control 
of  it.  He  even  emblazoned  the  announcement  of  his 
London  management  on  the  walls  of  the  Empire  on 
Broadway  in  New  York.  In  his  affections  it  was  in  Eng- 
land what  the  Empire  was  to  him  in  America.  It  was 
destined  to  be  the  background  of  his  distinguished 
artistic  endeavors,  perhaps  the  most  distinguished. 

236* 


CONQUEST  OF  LONDON  STAGE 

Charles  now  embarked  on  a  sea  of  lavish  productions. 
Typical  of  his  attitude  was  his  employment  of  the 
best-known  and  highest-salaried  producer  in  London. 
This  man  was  Dion  Boucicault,  son  of  the  famous 
playwright  of  the  same  name,  who  was  himself  a  very 
finished  and  versatile  actor.  He  gave  the  Frohman 
productions  a  touch  of  genuine  distinction,  and  his 
wife,  the  accomplished  Irene  Vanbrugh,  added  much  to 
the  attractiveness  of  the  Frohman  ventures. 

The  Frohman  sponsorship  of  the  Duke  of  York's  was 
celebrated  with  a  magnificent  production  of  Anthony 
Hope's  "The  Adventure  of  Lady  Ursula,"  which  had 
been  a  success  in  New  York  with  E.  H.  Sothern.  It  ran 
the  entire  season.  The  play  was  put  on  in  the  usual 
Frohman  way,  so  much  so  that  the  British  critics  said 
that  "the  production,  from  first  to  last,  was  correct 
down  to  a  coat-button." 

Until  the  end  of  his  life  the  Duke  of  York's  Theater 
had  a  large  place  in  his  heart.  At  the  back  of  private 
box  F,  which  was  his  own  box,  and  which  was  also  used 
for  royalty  when  it  visited  the  play,  was  a  comfortable 
retiring-room,  charmingly  decorated  in  red.  Here  Froh- 
man loved  to  sit  and  entertain  his  friends,  especially 
such  close  intimates  as  Sir  James  M.  Barrie,  Haddon 
Chambers,  Sir  Arthur  Pinero,  Henry  Arthur  Jones, 
Michael  Morton,  and  other  EngHsh  playwrights. 

These  busy  days  at  the  Duke  of  York's  furnished 
Frohman  with  many  amusing  episodes.  On  one  occasion 
he  was  caught  in  the  self-operating  elevator  of  the 
theater  and  was  kept  a  prisoner  in  it  for  over  an  hour. 
His  employees  were  in  consternation.  When  he  was 
finally  extricated  they  began  to  apologize  most  pro- 
fusely. 

237 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

"Nonsense!"  said  Frohman.  "I  am  glad  I  got  stuck. 
It's  the  first  vacation  I  have  had  in  two  years." 

The  lobby  of  the  Duke  of  York's  illustrates  one  of 
Charles's  distinctive  ideas.  Instead  of  ornamenting  it 
with  pictures  of  dead  dramatic  heroes  like  Shakespeare 
and  Garrick,  he  filled  it  with  photographs  of  his  live 
American  stars.  The  English  theater-goers  who  went 
there  saw  huge  portraits  of  Maude  Adams,  Ethel  Barry- 
more,  Marie  Doro,  John  Drew,  Otis  Skinner,  and 
William  Gillette. 

^  /  On  one  occasion  he  was  held  up  at  the  entrance  of 
the  Duke  of  York's  by  a  new  doorkeeper  who  asked 
for  his  ticket. 

"I  am  Frohman,"  said  the  manager. 

"Can't  help  it,  sir;  you've  got  to  have  a  ticket.'* 

"You're  quite  right,"  said  Frohman,  who  went  to 
the  box-office  and  bought  himself  a  stall  seat.  When 
the  house-manager,  James  W.  Matthews,  threatened  to 
discharge  the  doorkeeper,  Frohman  said : 

"Certainly  not.  The  man  was  obeying  orders.  If 
he  had  done  otherwise  you  should  have  discharged  him." 

Frohman  so  loved  the  Duke  of  York's  that  he  would 
go  back  to  it  and  witness  the  same  play  twenty  times. 
During  his  last  visit  to  England,  when  his  right  knee 
was  troubling  him,  he  telephoned  down  one  night  to 
have  his  box  reserved.  Matthews,  to  spare  him  any 
trouble,  had  a  little  platform  built  so  that  he  would 
not  have  to  walk  up  the  steps.  Two  weeks  later,  Froh- 
man again  telephoned  that  he  wanted  the  box  held,  and 
added : 

"I  am  better  now.  Don't  bother  to  build  a  theater 
for  me." 

Curiously  enough,  the  first  failure  that  Charles  had 

238 


CONQUEST  OF  LONDON  STAGE 

at  the  Duke  of  York's  was  ''The  Christian,"  which  had 
scored  such  an  enormous  success  in  America.  But 
failure  only  spurred  him  on  to  further  efforts.  When 
an  English  friend  condoled  with  him  about  his  loss 
on  this  occasion  he  said: 

"Forget  it.  Don't  let's  revive  the  past.  Let's  get 
busy  and  pulverize  the  future.'* 

To  the  average  mind  the  extent  of  Frohman's  London 
productions  is  amazing.  When  the  simple  fact  is  stated 
that  he  made  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  of  these, 
one  obtains  at  a  glance  the  immense  scope  of  the  man's 
operations  there.  Many  of  them  stand  out  brilliantly. 
Early  among  them  was  the  Frohman-Belasco  presen- 
tation of  Mrs.  Leslie  Carter  in  two  of  her  greatest 
successes  at  the  Garrick  Theater. 

The  first  was  "The  Heart  of  Maryland."  It  was  dur- 
ing this  engagement  that  Charles  bought  the  English 
rights  to  "Zaza,"  then  a  sensational  success  in  Paris. 
It  was  his  original  intention  to  star  Julia  Marlowe  in 
this  play.  When  Belasco  heard  of  the  play  he  imme- 
diately saw  it  was  an  ideal  vehicle  for  Mrs.  Carter, 
and  Frohman  generously  turned  it  over  to  him.  After 
its  great  triumph  in  the  United  States,  Frohman  and 
Belasco  produced  "Zaza"  in  London. 

It  was  a  huge  success  and  made  the  kind  of  sensation 
in  which  Frohman  delighted.  There  was  much  question 
as  to  its  propriety,  so  much  so  that  the  Lord  Chamberlain 
himself,  who  supervised  the  censorship,  came  and  wit- 
nessed the  performance.  He  made  no  objection,  how- 
ever. 

An  amusing  incident,  which  shows  the  extraordinary 
devotion  of  Charles  Frohman 's  friends,  occurred  on  the 

239 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

first  night.  While  attending  the  rehearsals  at  the 
Garrick,  Frohman  caught  cold  and  went  to  bed  with  a 
slight  attack  of  pneumonia.  On  the  inaugural  night  he 
lay  bedridden.  He  was  so  eager  for  news  of  the  play 
that  he  said  to  Dillingham: 

''Send  me  all  the  news  you  can.'* 

Dillingham  organized  a  bicycle  service,  and  every  fif- 
teen minutes  sent  encouraging  and  cheering  bulletins 
to  Frohman,  who  was  so  elated  that  he  was  able  to 
emerge  from  bed  the  next  morning  a  well  man. 

Now  the  interesting  thing  about  this  episode  is  that 
Dillingham  fabricated  most  of  the  messages,  because, 
until  the  end  of  the  play  and  for  several  days  thereafter, 
its  success  was  very  much  in  doubt.  Indeed,  it  took  more 
than  a  week  for  it  to  ''catch  on." 

Charles  followed  up  "Zaza"  with  a  superb  production 
of  "Madame  Butterfly,"  in  which  he  used  Belasco's 
beautiful  equipment.  This  production  put  the  artistic 
seal  on  Frohman's  achievement  as  a  London  manager. 
Up  to  this  time  there  were  some  who  believed  that, 
despite  the  lavishness  of  his  policy,  there  was  the  germ 
of  the  commercial  in  him.  "Madame  Butterfly"  re- 
moved this,  but  if  there  had  been  any  doubt  remaining, 
it  would  have  been  wiped  out  by  his  exquisite  presenta- 
tion of  "The  First  Born."  Associated  with  this  play  is 
a  story  that  shows  Frohman's  dogged  determination  and 
resource. 

Belasco  had  made  the  production  of  "The  First  Born  " 
in  America  in  lavish  fashion.  He  brought  to  it  all  his 
love  and  knowledge  of  Chinese  art. 

A  rival  manager,  W.  A.  Brady,  wishing  to  emulate 
the  success  of  "The  First  Born,"  got  together  a  produc- 
tion of  "The  Cat  and  the  Cherub,"  another  Chinese 

240 


EDNA  MAY 


CONQUEST  OF  LONDON  STAGE 

play,  and  secured  time  in  London,  hoping  to  beat  Froh- 
man  out.  It  now  became  a  race  between  Frohman 
and  Brady  for  the  first  presentation  in  London.  Both 
managers  were  in  America.  Brady  got  his  production 
off  first.    When  Frohman  heard  of  it  he  said: 

**We  must  be  in  London  first." 

"But  there  are  no  saiHngs  for  a  week,"  said  one  of 
his  staff. 

"Then  we  will  hire  a  boat,"  was  his  retort. 

However,  there  proved  to  be  no  need  for  this  enter- 
prise, because  a  regular  sailing  developed. 

"The  Cat  and  the  Cherub"  won  the  race  across  the 
Atlantic  and  was  produced  first.  It  took  the  edge  off 
the  novelty  of  "The  First  Born,"  which  was  a  failure, 
but  its  fine  quality  gave  Charles  the  premier  place  as 
an  artistic  producer  in  England,  and  he  never  regretted 
having  made  the  attempt  despite  the  loss. 

Frohman  became  immersed  in  a  multitude  of  things. 
In  September,  1901,  for  example,  he  was  interested  in 
five  English  playhouses — the  Aldwych,  the  Shaftesbury, 
the  Vaudeville,  and  the  Criterion,  as  well  as  the  Duke 
of  York's.  He  had  five  different  plays  going  at  the  same 
time — "Sherlock  Holmes,"  "Are  You  a  Mason?"  "Blue- 
bell in  Fairyland,"  "The  Twin  Sister,"  and  "The  Girl 
from  Maxim's."  This  situation  was  typical  of  his 
English  activities  from  that  time  until  his  death. 

The  picturesqueness  of  detail  which  seemed  to  mark 
the  beginning  of  so  many  of  Charles  Frohman's  personal 
and  professional  friendships  attended  him  in  England, 
as  the  case  of  his  first  experience  with  Edna  May  shows. 

One  hot  night  late  in  the  summer  season  of  1900 
Frohman  was  having  supper  alone  on  his  Httle  private 

241 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

balcony  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  overlooking  the  Thames. 
It  was  before  the  Strand  wing  of  the  hostelry  had  been 
built.  As  he  sat  there,  clad  only  in  pajamas  and  smok- 
ing a  large  black  cigar,  he  heard  a  terrific  din  on  the  street 
below.  There  was  cheering,  shouting,  and  clapping  of 
hands.     Summoning  a  waiter,  he  asked: 

"What's  all  that  noise  about?" 

"Oh,  it's  only  Miss  Edna  May  coming  to  supper,  sir." 

"Why  all  this  fuss?"  continued  Frohman. 

"Well,  you  see,  sir,"  answered  the  servant,  "they  are 
bringing  her  back  in  triumph." 

When  Frohman  made  investigation  he  found  that  the 
doctors  and  nurses  at  the  Middlesex  Hospital  in  London, 
where  Edna  May  frequently  sang  for  the  patients,  had 
engaged  the  whole  gallery  of  the  Shaftesbury  Theater 
where  she  was  singing  in  "The  American  Beauty,"  and 
attended  in  a  body.  After  the  play  they  had  surrounded 
her  at  the  stage  entrance,  unhitched  the  horse  from  her 
little  brougham,  and  hauled  her  through  the  streets 
to  the  Savoy. 

This  episode  made  a  tremendous  impression  on  Froh- 
man. He  was  always  drawn  to  the  people  who  could 
create  a  stir.  He  had  heard  that  Edna  May  was  nearing 
the  end  of  her  contract  with  George  Lederer,  so  he  en- 
tered into  negotiations  with  her,  and  that  autumn  she 
passed  under  his  management  and  remained  so  until 
she  retired  in  1907. 

In  the  case  of  Edna  May  there  could  be  no  star- 
making.  The  spectacular  rise  of  this  charming  girl  from 
the  chorus  to  the  most-talked-of  musical  comedy  role 
in  the  English-speaking  world — that  of  the  Salvation 
Army  girl  in  "The  Belle  of  New  York" — had  given  her  a 
great  reputation.    Frohman  now  capitalized  that  repu- 

242 


CONQUEST  OF  LONDON  STAGE 

tation  in  his  usual  elaborate  fashion.  He  first  presented 
Miss  May  in  ''The  Girl  from  Up  There.'* 

She  appeared  under  his  management  in  various 
pieces,  both  in  New  York  and  in  London.  Her  company 
in  New  York  included  Montgomery  and  Stone,  Dan 
Daly,  and  Virginia  Earle.  When  he  presented  Miss  May 
at  the  Duke  of  York's  in  "The  Giri  from  Up  There" 
the  result  was  the  biggest  business  that  the  theater  had 
known  up  to  that  time.  In  succession  followed  "Kitty 
Gray,"  which  ran  a  year  in  London,  "Three  Little 
Maids,"  and  "La  Poupee." 

All  the  while  there  was  being  written  for  Miss  May  a 
musical  piece  in  which  she  was  to  achieve  one  of  her 
greatest  successes,  and  which  was  to  bring  Charles  into 
contact  with  another  one  of  his  future  stars.  It  was 
"The  School  Girl,"  which  Frohman  first  did  in  May, 
1903,  in  London,  and  afterward  put  on  with  great  suc- 
cess at  Daly's  in  New  York. 

In  the  English  production  of  this  play  was  a  petite, 
red-haired  little  girl  named  Billie  Burke,  who  sang  a 
song  called  "Put  Me  in  My  Little  Canoe,"  which  be- 
came one  of  the  hits  of  the  play.  Frohman  was  immense- 
ly attracted  by  this  girl,  and  afterward  took  her  under 
his  patronage  and  she  became  one  of  his  best-known 
stars. 

Edna  May,  under  Frohman's  direction,  was  now  per- 
haps the  best  known  of  the  musical  comedy  stars  in 
England  and  America.  He  took  keen  delight  in  her 
success.  In  "The  Catch  of  the  Season,"  which  he  did 
at  Daly's  in  New  York  in  August,  1905,  she  practically 
bade  farewell  to  the  American  stage.  Henceforth  Froh- 
man kept  her  in  England.  In  "The  Belle  of  Mayfair" 
she  was  succeeded  by  Miss  Burke  in  the  leading  part, 

243 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Frohman's  production  of  "Nelly  Neil"  at  the  Aldwych 
Theater  in  1907  was  one  of  the  most  superb  musical 
comedy  presentations  ever  made.  For  this  Frohman 
imported  Joseph  Coyne  from  America  to  do  the  leading 
juvenile  r61e.  He  became  such  a  great  favorite  that  he 
has  remained  in  England  ever  since. 

Just  as  Edna  May  had  bidden  farewell  to  America 
in  ''The  Catch  of  the  Season,"  so  she  now  bade  farewell 
to  the  English  stage  in  "Nelly  Neil."  She  had  become 
engaged  to  Oscar  Lewisohn,  who  insisted  on  an  early  mar- 
riage. About  this  time  Frohman  and  George  Edwardes 
secured  the  English  rights  to  "The  Merry  Widow." 
They  both  urged  Miss  May  to  postpone  her  marriage 
and  appear  in  it.  Miss  May  was  now  compelled  to  de- 
cide between  matrimony  and  what  would  have  been 
perhaps  her  greatest  success,  and  she  chose  matrimony. 

Her  good-by  appearance  on  the  stage,  May  i,  1907, 
was  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  events  in  the  history 
of  the  English  theater.  This  lovely,  unassuming  Ameri- 
can girl  had  so  completely  endeared  herself  to  the  hearts 
of  the  London  theater-goers  that  she  was  made  the 
center  of  a  tumultuous  farewell.  The  day  the  seat-sale 
opened  there  was  a  queue  several  blocks  long.  During 
the  opening  performance  Charles  sat  in  his  box  alone. 
When  some  friends  entered  he  was  in  tears.  He  had  a 
gentiine  personal  affection  for  Miss  May,  and  her  retire- 
ment touched  him  very  deeply. 

In  connection  with  "Nelly  Neil"  there  is  a  little  story 
which  illustrates  Charles's  attitude  toward  his  produc- 
tions. He  had  spent  a  fortune  on  "Nelly  Neil,"  and  it 
was  not  a  financial  success.  After  giving  it  every  chance 
he  instructed  Lestocq  to  put  up  the  two  weeks'  notice. 
Lestocq  remarked  that  it  was  a  shame  to  end  such  a 

244 


BILLIE  BURKE 


CONQUEST  OF  LONDON  STAGE 

magnificent  presentation.     Whereupon  Frohman  turned 
around  quickly  and  said: 

*'Shut  up,  or  I'll  run  it  another  month.  You  know, 
Lestocq,  if  I  don't  keep  a  hand  on  myself  sometimes  my 
sentiment  will  be  the  ruin  of  me." 

By  this  time  Frohman  and  James  M.  Barrie  had  be- 
come close  friends.  The  manager  had  produced  "Qual- 
ity Street"  at  the  Vaudeville  Theater  with  great  success. 
He  now  approached  a  Barrie  production  which  gave 
him  perhaps  more  pleasure  than  anything  he  did  in 
his  whole  stage  life.  The  advent  of  "Peter  Pan"  was 
at  hand.  The  remarkable  stoiy  of  how  Charles  got  the 
manuscript  of  "Peter  Pan"  has  already  been  told  in 
this  biography. 

The  original  title  that  Barrie  gave  the  play  was  "The 
Great  White  Father,"  which  Frohman  liked.  Just  as 
soon  as  Barrie  suggested  that  it  be  named  after  its  prin- 
cipal character,  Frohman  fairly  overflowed  with  en- 
thusiasm. In  preparing  for  "Peter  Pan"  in  England, 
Charles  was  like  a  child  with  a  toy.  Money  was  spent 
lavishly;  whole  scenes  were  made  and  never  used.  He 
regarded  it  as  a  great  and  rollicking  adventure. 

The  first  production  of  the  Barrie  masterpiece  on  any 
stage  took  place  at  the  Duke  of  York's  Theater,  London, 
on  December  27,  1904.  Frohman  was  then  in  America. 
At  his  country  place  up  at  White  Plains,  only  his  close 
friend,  Paul  Potter,  with  him,  he  eagerly  awaited  the 
verdict.  It  was  a  bitterly  cold  night,  and  a  snow-storm 
was  raging.  Frohman's  secretary  in  the  office  in  New 
York  had  arranged  to  telephone  the  news  of  the  play's 
reception  which  Lestocq  was  expected  to  cable  from  Lon- 
don.   On  account  of  the  storm  the  message  was  delayed. 

245 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Frohman  was  nervous.  He  kept  on  saying,  "Will  it 
never  come?"  His  heart  was  bound  up  in  the  fortunes 
of  this  beloved  fairy  play.  While  he  waited  with  Potter, 
Frohman  acted  out  the  whole  play,  getting  down  on  all- 
fours  to  illustrate  the  dog  and  crocodile.  He  told  it 
as  Wendy  would  have  told  it,  for  Wendy  was  one  of  his 
favorites.  Finally  at  midnight  the  telephone-bell  rang. 
Potter  took  down  the  receiver.  Frohman  jumped  up 
from  his  chair,  saying,  eagerly,  "What's  the  verdict?" 
Potter  listened  a  moment,  then  turned,  and  with  beam- 
ing face  repeated  Lestocq's  cablegram: 

Peter  Pan  all  right.     Looks  like  a  big  success. 

This  was  one  of  the  happiest  nights  in  Frohman 's  life. 

The  first  Peter  in  England  was  Nina  Boucicault,  who 
played  the  part  with  great  wistfulness  and  charm.  She 
was  the  first  of  a  quartet  which  included  Cissy  Loftus, 
Pauline  Chase,  and  Madge  Titheradge. 

Charles  so  adored  "Peter  Pan"  that  he  produced  it 
in  Paris,  June  i,  1909,  at  the  Vaudeville  Theater,  with  an 
all-English  cast  headed  by  Pauline  Chase.  Robb  Har- 
wood  was  Captain  Hook,  and  Sibyl  Carlisle  played  Mrs. 
Darling.  It  was  produced  under  the  direction  of  Dion 
Boucicault.  The  first  presentation  was  a  great  hit,  and 
the  play  ran  for  five  weeks.  On  the  opening  night  Barrie 
and  Frohman  each  had  a  box.  Frohman  was  overjoyed 
at  its  success,  and  Barrie,  naturally,  could  not  repress  his 
delight.  What  pleased  them  most  was  the  spectacle  of 
row  after  row  of  little  French  kiddies,  who,  while  not 
understanding  a  word  of  the  narrative,  seemed  to  be 
having  the  time  of  their  lives. 

From  the  date  of  its  first  production  until  his  death, 
* 'Peter  Pan"  became  a  fixed  annual  event  in  the  English 

246 


CONQUEST  OF  LONDON  STAGE 

life  of  Charles  Frohman.  He  revived  it  every  year  at 
holiday-time.  No  occasion  in  his  calendar  was  more 
important  than  the  annual  appearance  of  the  fascinat- 
ing boy  who  had  twined  himself  about  the  American 
manager's  heart. 

Charles  was  now  a  conspicuous  and  prominent  figure 
in  English  theatrical  life.  The  great  were  his  friends 
and  his  opinion  was  much  quoted.  In  addition  to  his 
sole  control  of  the  Duke  of  York's,  he  had  interests  in  a 
dozen  other  playhouses.  He  liked  the  EngHsh  way  of 
doing  business.  Yet,  despite  what  many  people  be- 
lieved to  be  a  strong  pro-British  tendency,  he  was  always 
deeply  and  patriotically  American,  and  he  lost  several 
fortunes  in  pioneering  the  American  play  and  the 
American  actor  in  England. 

To  name  the  American  plays  that  he  produced  in 
London  would  be  to  give  almost  a  complete  catalogue  of 
American  drama  revealed  to  English  eyes.  Curiously 
enough,  at  least  two  plays,  **The  Lion  and  the  Mouse" 
and  "Paid  in  Full,"  that  had  made  enormous  successes 
in  America,  failed  utterly  in  England  under  his  direc- 
tion. He  gave  England  such  typically  American  dramas 
as  "The  Great  Divide,"  "Brewster's  Millions,"  "Alias 
Jimmy  Valentine,"  "Years  of  Discretion,"  "A  Woman's 
Way,"  "On  the  Quiet,"  and  "The  Dictator." 

In  addition  to  Gillette  he  presented  Billie  Burke  in 
"Love  Watches,"  William  Collier  in  "The  Dictator"  and 
"On  the  Quiet,"  and  Ethel  Barrymore  in  "Cynthia." 

With  his  presentation  of  Collier  he  did  one  of  his  char- 
acteristic strokes  ot  enterprise.  Marie  Tempest  was 
playing  at  the  Comedy  in  London.  He  had  always  been 
anxious  to  try  Collier's  unctuous  American  humor  on 

247 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

the  British,  so  the  American  comedian  swapped  engage- 
ments with  Miss  Tempest.  She  came  over  to  the 
Criterion  in  New  York  to  do  "The  Freedom  of  Suzanne," 
while  Collier  took  her  time  at  the  Comedy  in  "The 
Dictator."  He  scored  a  great  success  and  remained 
nearly  a  year. 

The  time  was  now  ripe  for  the  most  brilliant  of  all 
the  Charles  Frohman  achievements  in  England.  Had 
he  done  nothing  else  than  the  Repertory  Theater  he 
would  have  left  for  himself  an  imperishable  monument 
of  artistic  endeavor.  The  extraordinary  feature  of  this 
undertaking  was  that  it  was  left  for  an  American  to 
finance  and  promote  in  the  very  cradle  of  the  British 
drama  the  highest  and  finest  attempt  yet  made  to 
encourage  that  drama.  The  Repertory  Theater  would 
have  proclaimed  any  manager  the  open-handed  patron 
of  drama  for  drama's  sake. 

The  National  or  Repertory  Theater  idea,  which  was 
the  antidote  for  the  long  run,  the  agency  for  the  produc- 
tion of  plays  that  had  no  sustained  box-office  virtue, 
which  took  the  speculative  feature  out  of  production, 
had  been  preached  in  England  for  some  time.  Granville 
Barker  had  tried  it  at  the  Court  Theater,  where  the 
Shaw  plays  had  been  produced  originally.  The  move- 
ment lagged;    it  needed  energy  and  money. 

Barrie  had  been  a  disciple  of  the  Repertory  Theater 
from  the  start.  He  knew  that  there  w^as  only  one  man 
in  the  world  who  could  make  the  attempt  in  the  right 
way.     One  day  in  1909  he  said  to  Frohman: 

"Why  don't  you  establish  a  Repertory  Theater?" 

Then  he  explained  in  a  few  words  what  he  had  in 
mind. 

24S 


PAULINE  CHASE 


CONQUEST  OF  LONDON  STAGE 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Frohman  said,  briskly: 

''All  right,  ril  do  it." 

With  these  few  words  he  committed  himself  to  an 
enterprise  that  cost  him  a  fortune.  But  it  was  an  enter- 
prise that  revealed,  perhaps  as  nothing  in  his  career 
had  revealed,  the  depths  of  his  artistic  nature. 

With  his  marvelous  grasp  of  things,  Frohman  swiftly 
got  at  the  heart  of  the  Repertory  proposition.  When 
he  launched  the  enterprise  at  the  Duke  of  York's  he  said : 

Repertory  companies  are  usually  associated  in 
the  public  mind  with  the  revival  of  old  master- 
pieces, hut  if  you  want  to  know  the  character  of 
my  repertory  project  at  the  Duke  of  York's,  I 
should  describe  it  as  the  production  of  new  plays 
by  living  authors.  Whatever  it  accomplishes,  it 
will  represent  the  combined  resources  of  actor  and 
playwright  working  with  each  other,  a  combina- 
tion that  seems  to  me  to  represent  the  most  neces- 
sary foundation  of  any  theatrical  success. 

Frohman  stopped  at  nothing  in  carrying  out  the 
Repertory  Theater  idea.  He  engaged  Granville  Barker 
to  produce  most  of  the  plays.  Barker  in  turn  surrounded 
himself  with  a  superb  group  of  players.  The  most  brill- 
iant of  the  stage  scenic  artists  in  England,  headed  by 
Norman  Wilkinson,  were  engaged  to  design  the  scenes. 
Every  possible  detail  that  money  could  buy  was  lavished 
on  this  project. 

The  result  was  a  series  of  plays  that  set  a  new  mark 
for  English  production,  that  put  stimulus  behind  the 
so-called  ''unappreciated"  play,  and  gave  the  English- 
speaking  drama  something  to  talk  about — and  to  re- 
member. The  mere  unadorned  list  of  the  plays  pro- 
17  249 


^ 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

duced  is  impressive.  They  were  "Justice,"  by  John 
Galsworthy;  "Misalliance,"  by  Bernard  Shaw;  "Old 
Friends"  and  the  "The  Twelve-Pound  Look,"  by  James 
M.  Barrie;  "The  Sentimentalists,"  by  George  Mere- 
dith ;  *  *  Madras  House, ' '  by  Granville  Barker ;  '  *  Chains, '  * 
by  Elizabeth  Baker;  "Prunella,"  by  Lawrence  Housman 
and  Granville  Barker;  "Helena's  Path,"  by  Anthony 
Hope  and  Cosmo  Gordon  Lenox,  and  a  revival  of  "Tre- 
lawney  of  the  Wells,"  by  Sir  Arthur  Pinero. 

The  way  "The  Twelve-Pound  Look"  came  to  be  pro- 
duced is  interesting.  When  the  repertory  for  the 
theater  was  being  discussed  one  day  by  Barrie  and 
Barker  at  the  former's  flat  in  Adelphi  Terrace  House, 
Barker  said: 

"Haven't  you  got  a  one-act  play  that  we  could  do?'* 

Barrie  thought  a  moment,  scratched  his  head,  and 
said: 

"I  think  I  wrote  one  about  six  months  ago  when  I 
was  recovering  from  malaria.  You  might  find  it  some- 
where in  that  desk."  He  pointed  toward  the  flat-top 
table  affair  on  which  he  had  written  "The  Little 
Minister"  and  "Peter  Pan." 

Barker  rummaged  around  through  the  drawers  and 
finally  found  a  manuscript  written  in  Barrie 's  hiero- 
glyphic hand.     It  was  "The  Twelve-Pound  Look." 

The  production  of  "Justice"  was  generally  regarded 
in  England  as  the  finest  example  of  stage  production 
that  has  been  made  within  the  last  twenty -five  years. 
Despite  the  expense,  and  the  fact  that  Frohman  insisted 
upon  making  each  play  a  splendid  production,  the 
Repertory  Theater  prospered.  It  ran  from  February 
21,  1 910,  until  the  middle  of  May.  Its  run  was  tem- 
porarily terminated  by  the  death  of  King  Edward  VII., 

250 


CONQUEST    OF    LONDON    STAGE 

and  it  was  impossible  to  revive  the  project  successfully 
after  the  formal  period  of  mourning  closed. 

Frohman's  constantly  widening  activities  in  London 
made  it  necessary  for  him  to  have  more  spacious  quar- 
ters. The  story  of  his  offices  really  tells  the  story  of  his 
work,  for  they  increased  in  scope  as  his  operations 
widened.  When  he  leased  the  Aldwych  Theater  he  set 
up  his  headquarters  there.  With  the  acquisition  of  the 
Globe  he  needed  more  room,  and  this  theater  becam.e 
the  seat  of  his  managerial  operations.  In  19 13,  and  with 
characteristic  lavishness,  he  engaged  what  is  perhaps 
the  finest  suite  of  theatrical  offices  in  London.  They 
were  in  a  marble  structure  known  as  Trafalgar  House, 
in  Waterloo  Place,  one  of  the  choicest  and  most  expen- 
sive locations  in  the  city. 

Here  he  had  a  suite  of  six  rooms.  Like  the  man 
himself,  his  own  personal  quarters  were  very  simple. 
There  was  a  long,  high-ceiled  room,  with  a  roll-top  desk, 
which  was  never  used,  at  one  end,  and  a  low  morris- 
chair  at  the  other.  From  this  morris-chair  and  from 
his  rooms  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  he  ruled  his  English  realm. 

Charles's  love  for  his  stars  never  lagged,  and  wherever 
it  was  possible  for  him  to  surround  himself  with  their 
pictures  he  did  so.  As  a  result,  the  visitor  to  his  Lon- 
don rooms  found  him  surrounded  by  the  familiar  faces 
of  Maude  Adams,  Ethel  Barrymore,  Ann  Murdock, 
Marie  Doro,  Julia  Sanderson,  William  Gillette,  and  John 
Drew.  On  the  roll-top  desk,  side  by  side,  were  the 
pictures  of  his  two  Peter  Pans,  Miss  Adams  and  Pauline 
Chase. 

Charles's  last  London  production,  strangely  enough, 
consisted  of  two  plays  by  his  closest  friend,   Barrie. 

251 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

This  double  bill  was  "The  New  Word,"  a  fireside  scene, 
which  was  followed  by  ''Rosy  Rapture." 

By  a  strange  coincidence  his  first  English  venture  was 
a  failure,  and  so  was  his  last.  Yet  the  long  and  brilliant 
journey  between  these  two  dates  was  a  highway  that 
any  man  might  have  trod  with  pride.  The  English- 
speaking  drama  received  an  impetus  and  a  standard 
that  it  never  would  have  had  without  his  unflagging 
zeal  and  his  generous  purse.  He  left  an  influence  upon 
the  English  stage  that  will  last. 

What  endeared  him  perhaps  more  than  anything  else 
to  England  was  the  smiling  serenity  with  which  he  met 
criticism  and  loss.  There  may  have  been  times  when 
the  English  resented  his  desire  for  monopoly,  but  they 
forgot  it  in  tremendous  admiration  for  his  courage  and 
his  resource.  He  revolutionized  the  economics  of  the 
British  stage;  he  invested  it  with  life,  energy,  action; 
he  established  a  whole  new  relation  between  author  and 
producer.  Here,  as  in  America,  he  was  the  pioneer  and 
the  builder. 


XII 

BARRIE    AND    THE    ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

T-'HE  fortunes  of  Charles  Frohman's  English  pro- 
ductions ebbed  and  flowed;  actors  and  actresses 
came  and  went ;  to  him  it  was  all  part  of  a  big  and 
fascinating  game.  What  really  counted  and  became 
permanent  were  the  man's  friendships,  often  made  in  the 
theatrical  world  of  make-believe,  but  always  cemented 
in  the  domain  of  very  sincere  reality.  In  England  were 
some  of  his  dearest  personal  bonds. 

They  grew  out  of  the  fact  that  Charles  had  the  rare 
genius  of  inspiring  loyal  friendship.  He  gave  much  and 
he  got  much.  Yet,  like  Stevenson,  it  was  a  case  of  "a 
few  friends,  but  these  without  capitulation." 

In  England  he  seemed  to  be  a  different  human  being. 
The  inaccessibility  that  hedged  him  about  in  America 
vanished.  He  emerged  from  his  unsocial  shell;  he 
gave  out  interviews;  he  relaxed  and  renewed  his  youth 
in  jaunt  and  jest.  His  annual  trip  abroad,  therefore,  was 
like  a  joyous  adventure.  It  mattered  little  if  he  made 
or  lost  a  forttme  each  time. 

Frohman  was  happy  in  London.  He  liked  the  soft, 
gray  tones  of  the  somber  city.  ''It's  so  restful,"  he 
always  said.  Even  the  "bobbie"  delighted  him.  He 
would  watch  the  stolid  policeman  from  the  curb  and  say, 
admiringly:    "He  is  wonderful;   he  raises  his  hand  and 

253 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

all  London  stops."  He  was  greatly  interested  in  the 
traffic  regulations. 

Although  he  had  elaborate  offices,  his  real  London 
headquarters  were  in  the  Savoy  Hotel.  Here,  in  the 
same  suite  that  he  had  year  after  year,  and  where  he 
was  known  to  all  employees  from  manager  to  page,  he 
literally  sat  enthroned,  for  his  favorite  fashion  was  to 
curl  up  on  a  settee  with  his  feet  doubled  under  him. 
More  than  one  visitor  who  saw  him  thus  ensconced 
called  him  a  ''beaming  Buddha." 

From  his  informal  eminence  he  ruled  his  world. 
Around  him  assembled  the  Knights  of  the  Dramatic 
Roimd  Table.  Wherever  Frohman  sat  became  the  un- 
official capitol  of  a  large  part  of  the  EngHsh-speaking 
stage.  In  those  Savoy  rooms  there  was  made  much  sig- 
nificant theatrical  history.  To  the  little  American  came 
Barrie,  Pinero,  Chambers,  Jones,  Sutro,  Maugham, 
Morton,  with  their  plays;  Alexander,  Tree,  Maude, 
Hicks,  Barker,  Bouchier,  with  their  projects. 

Like  Charles  Lamb,  Frohman  loved  to  ramble  about 
London.  Often  he  would  stop  in  the  midst  of  his 
work,  hail  a  taxi,  and  go  for  a  drive  in  the  green  parks. 
The  Zoological  Gardens  always  delighted  him.  He  fre- 
quently stopped  to  watch  the  animals.  The  English 
countryside  always  lured  him,  especially  the  long  green 
hedges,  which  held  a  peculiar  fascination.  He  walked 
considerably  in  the  country  and  in  town,  and  he  took 
great  delight  in  peering  in  shop  windows. 

In  London,  as  in  New  York,  the  theater  was  his  life 
and  inspiration.  Almost  without  exception  he  went  to 
a  performance  of  some  kind  every  evening.  At  most  of 
the  London  theaters  he  was  always  given  the  royal 
box  whenever  possible.     He  liked  the  atmosphere  of 

254 


JAMES  M.  BARRIE 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

the  British  playhouse.     He  always  said  it  was  more  like 
a  drawing-room  than  a  place  of  amusement. 

To  Charles,  London  meant  J.  M.  Barrie,  and  to  be 
with  the  man  who  wrote  "Peter  Pan"  was  one  of  his 
supreme  delights.  The  devotion  between  these  two 
men  of  such  widely  differing  temperaments  constitutes 
one  of  the  really  great  friendships  of  modem  times. 
Character  of  an  unusual  kind,  on  both  sides,  was  essen- 
tial to  such  a  communion  of  interest  and  affection.  Both 
possessed  it  to  a  remarkable  degree. 

No  two  people  could  have  been  more  opposite. 
Frohman  was  quick,  nervous,  impulsive,  bubbHng  with 
optimism;  Barrie  was  the  quiet,  canny  Scot,  reserved, 
repressed,  and  elusive.  Yet  they  had  two  great  traits 
in  common — shyness  and  humor.     As  Barrie  says: 

'*  Because  we  were  the  two  shyest  men  in  the  world, 
we  got  on  so  well  and  understood  each  other  so  per- 
fectly." 

There  was  another  bond  between  these  two  men  in 
the  fact  that  each  adored  his  mother.  In  Charles's  case 
he  was  the  pride  and  the  joy  of  the  maternal  heart; 
with  Barrie  the  root  and  inspiration  of  all  his  life  and 
work  was  the  revered  "Margaret  Ogilvy."  He  is  the 
only  man  in  all  the  world  who  ever  wrote  a  life  of  his 
mother. 

There  was  still  another  and  more  tangible  community 
of  interest  between  these  two  remarkable  men.  Each 
detested  the  silk  hat.  Frohman  had  never  worn  one 
since  the  Haverly  Minstrel  days,  when  he  had  to  don 
the  tile  for  the  daily  street  parade.  Barrie,  in  all  his 
life,  has  had  only  one  silk  hat.  It  is  of  the  vintage  of  the 
early  'seventies.     The  only  occasion  when  he  wears  the 

255 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

much-detested  headgear  is  at  the  first  rehearsal  of  the 
companies  that  do  his  plays.  Then  he  attires  himself 
in  morning  clothes,  goes  to  the  theater,  nervously  holds 
the  hat  in  his  hand  while  he  is  introduced  to  the  actors 
and  actresses.  Just  as  Charles  used  to  hide  his  silk 
hat  as  soon  as  the  minstrel  parade  was  over  and  put  on 
a  cap,  so  does  Barrie  send  the  objectionable  headgear 
home  as  soon  as  these  formalities  are  over  and  welcome 
his  more  comfortable  bowler  as  an  old  friend. 

Curiously  enough,  Frohman  and  Barrie  did  not  drift 
together  at  once.  When  the  little  Scotchman  made  his 
first  visit  to  America  in  1896  and  ''discovered"  Maude 
Adams  as  the  inspired  person  to  act  Lady  Babbie,  he 
met  the  man  who  was  to  be  his  great  friend  in  a  casual 
business  way  only.  The  negotiations  for  "The  Little 
Minister"  from  England  were  conducted  through  an 
agent. 

But  when  Frohman  went  abroad  the  following  year 
the  kinship  between  the  men  started,  and  continued 
with  increasing  intimacy.  The  men  became  great  pals. 
They  would  wander  about  London,  Barrie  smoking  a 
short,  black  pipe,  Frohman  swinging  his  stick.  On 
many  of  these  strolls  they  walked  for  hours  without  say- 
ing a  word  to  each  other.  Each  had  the  great  gift  of 
silence — the  rare  sense  of  understanding. 

Barrie  and  his  pipe  are  inseparable,  as  the  world 
knows.  There  is  a  legend  in  London  theatrical  lore 
that  Frohman  wanted  to  drive  to  Barrie' s  flat  one  night. 
He  was  in  his  usual  merry  mood,  so  the  instruction  he 
gave  was  this: 

**  Drive  to  the  Strand,  go  down  to  Adelphi  Terrace, 
and  stop  at  the  first  smell  of  pipe  smoke." 

Frohman  never  tired  of  asking  Barrie  about  "Peter 

256 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

Pan."  It  was  a  curious  commentary  on  the  man's 
tenacity  of  interest  and  purpose  that,  ahhough  he  made 
neariy  seven  hundred  productions  in  his  life,  the  play 
of  the  "  Boy  Who  Would  Never  Grow  Up  "  tugged  most  at 
his  heart.  Nor  did  Barrie  ever  weary  of  telling  him  how 
the  play  began  as  a  nursery  tale  for  children ;  how  their 
insistent  demand  to  "tell  us  more"  made  it  the  "longest 
story  in  the  world";  how,  when  one  pirate  had  been 
killed,  little  Peter  (the  original  of  the  character,  now  a 
soldier  in  the  great  war)  excitedly  said:  "One  man 
isn't  enough;   let's  kill  a  lot  of  them." 

No  one  will  be  surprised  to  know  that  in  connection 
with  "Peter  Pan"  is  one  of  the  most  sweetly  gracious 
acts  in  Frohman's  life.  The  original  of  Peter  was  sick 
in  bed  at  his  home  when  the  play  was  produced  in 
London.  The  little  lad  was  heartsick  because  he  could 
not  see  it.  When  Frohman  came  to  London  Barrie 
told  him  about  it. 

"If  the  boy  can't  come  to  the  play,  we  will  take  the 
play  to  the  boy,"  he  said. 

Frohman  sent  his  company  out  to  the  boy's  home  with 
as  many  "props"  as  could  be  jammed  into  the  sick-room. 
While  the  delighted  and  excited  child  sat  propped  up 
in  bed  the  wonders  of  the  fairy  play  were  unfolded 
before  him.  It  is  probably  the  only  instance  where  a 
play  was  done  before  a  child  in  his  home. 

As  most  people  know,  Barrie,  at  his  own  expense, 
erected  a  statue  of  Peter  Pan  in  Kensington  Gardens  as 
his  gift  to  the  children  of  London  who  so  adored  his  play. 
It  was  done  as  a  surprise,  for  the  statue  stood  revealed  one 
May  Day  morning,  having  been  set  up  during  the  night. 

When  he  planned  this  statue  Barrie  mentioned  it 
casually  to  Frohman,  and  said  nothing  more  about  it. 

257 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Frohman  never  visited  the  park  to  see  it,  but  when  the 
model  was  put  on  exhibition  at  the  Academy  he  said 
to  Lestocq  one  day : 

* '  Where  is  that  Peter  Pan  model  ?"  When  he  was  told 
he  said:  *'I  want  to  see  it,  but  do  I  have  to  look  at  any- 
thing else  in  the  gallery?"  On  being  assured  that  he 
did  not,  he  said,  ''All  right." 

Frohman  went  to  the  Academy,  bolted  straight  for 
the  sculpture-room,  and  stood  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
gazing  intently  at  the  graceful  figure  of  Peter  playing 
his  pipe.  Then  he  walked  out  again,  without  stopping 
to  look  at  any  of  the  lovely  things  about  him.  It  was 
characteristic  of  Frohman  to  do  just  the  thing  he  had 
in  mind  to  do  and  nothing  else. 

Frohman  and  Barrie  seldom  wrote  to  each  other. 
When  they  did  it  was  a  mere  scrawl  that  no  other  human 
being  in  the  world  could  read.  The  only  cablegram 
that  Barrie  ever  sent  Frohman  was  about  ''What  Every 
Woman  Knows."  Hilda  Trevelyan  played  Maggie 
Wylie.  Barrie  liked  her  work  so  much  that  he  cabled 
Frohman  about  it  on  the  opening  night.  When  the 
actress  went  down  to  breakfast  the  next  morning  to 
read  what  the  newspapers  said  about  her  she  found 
on  her  plate  a  cable  from  Frohman  doubling  her  salary. 
It  was  Frohman's  answer  to  Barrie. 

Frohman's  faith  in  Barrie  was  marvelous.  It  was 
often  said  in  jest  in  London  that  if  Barrie  had  asked 
Frohman  to  produce  a  dramatization  of  the  Telephone 
Directory  he  would  smile  and  say  with  enthusiasm: 

"Fine!    Who  shall  we  have  in  the  cast?" 

One  of  the  great  Frohman-Barrie  adventures  was 
in  Paris.  It  illustrates  so  completely  the  relation  be- 
tween these  men  that  it  is  worth  giving  in  detail. 

258 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

Frohman  was  in  Paris,  and  after  much  telegraphic 
insistence  persuaded  his  friend  to  come  over  on  his  first 
visit  to  the  French  capital.  Frohman  was  aglow  with 
anticipation.  He  wanted  to  give  Barrie  the  time  of 
his  life. 

"What  would  a  literary  man  like  to  do  in  Paris?"  was 
the  question  he  asked  himself. 

In  his  usual  generous  way  he  planned  the  first  night, 
for  Barrie  was  to  arrive  in  the  afternoon.  He  was  then 
living  at  the  Hotel  Meurice,  in  the  Rue  Roy  ale,  so  he 
engaged  a  magnificent  suite  for  his  guest.  He  ordered  a 
sumptuous  dinner  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  bought  a  box 
at  the  Theatre  Frangais,  and  engaged  a  smart  victoria 
for  the  evening. 

Barrie  was  dazed  at  the  splendor  of  the  Meurice  suite, 
but  he  survived  it.  When  Frohman  spoke  of  the  Cafe 
de. Paris  dinner  he  said  he  would  rather  dine  quietly 
at  the  hotel,  so  the  elaborate  meal  was  given  up. 

"Now  what  would  you  like  to  do  this  evening?'* 
asked  his  host. 

"Are  there  any  of  those  country  fairs  around  here, 
where  they  have  side  shows  and  you  can  throw  balls 
at  things?"  asked  Barrie. 

Frohman,  who  had  box  seats  for  the  most  classic 
of  all  Continental  theaters  in  his  pocket,  said: 

"Yes,  there  is  one  in  Netiilly." 

"All  right,"  said  Barrie,  "let's  go  there." 

"We'll  drive  out  in  a  victoria,"  meekly  suggested 
Frohman. 

"No,"  said  Barrie,  "I  think  it  would  be  more  fun 
to  go  on  a  'bus." 

With  the  unused  tickets  for  the  Theatre  Frangais  in 
his  waistcoat,  and  the  smart  little  victoria  still  waiting 

259 


J 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

in  front  of  the  Meurice  (for  Frohman  forgot  to  order  the 
man  home) ,  the  two  friends  started  for  the  country  fair, 
where  they  spent  the  whole  evening  throwing  balls  at 
what  the  French  call  *'Aunt  Sally."  It  is  much  Hke 
the  old-fashioned  side-show  at  an  American  county  fair. 
A  negro  pokes  his  head  through  a  hole  in  the  canvas, 
and  every  time  the  thrower  hits  the  head  he  gets  a  knife. 
When  Frohman  and  Barrie  returned  to  the  Meurice 
that  night  they  had  fifty  knives  between  them.  The 
next  night  they  repeated  this  performance  until  they 
had  knives  enough  to  start  a  hardware-store.  This  was 
the  simple  and  childlike  way  that  these  two  men,  each 
a  genius  in  his  own  way,  disported  themselves  on  a 
holiday. 

One  more  incident  will  show  the  amazing  accord  be- 
tween Frohman  and  Barrie.  They  were  constantly 
playing  jokes  on  each  other,  like  two  youngsters.  One 
day  they  were  talking  in  Frohman 's  rooms  at  the  Savoy 
when  a  certain  actress  was  announced. 

"I  would  like  to  know  what  this  woman  really  thinks 
of  me,"  said  Barrie.     '*I  have  never  met  her." 

''All  right,"  said  Frohman,  "you  pretend  to  be  my 
secretary." 

The  woman  came  up  and  had  a  long  talk  with  Froh- 
man, during  which  she  gave  her  impressions,  not  very 
flattering,  of  British  playwrights  in  general  and  Barrie 
in  particular.  All  the  while  the  little  Scot  sat  solemnly 
at  a  near-by  desk,  sorting  papers  and  occasionally  hand- 
ing one  to  Frohman  to  sign.  When  the  woman  left  they 
nearly  exploded  with  laughter. 

One  of  Frohman' s  delights  when  in  England  was  to 
go  to  Barrie's  fiat  in  London,  overlooking  the  Victoria 
Embankment.     He  liked  this  place,  first  of  all,  because  it 

260 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

was  Barrie's.  Then,  too,  he  could  sit  curled  up  in  the 
corner  on  a  settee,  smoking  a  fat,  black  cigar,  and  look 
out  on  the  historic  Thames.  Here  he  knew  he  would 
not  have  to  talk.  It  was  the  place  of  Silence  and 
Understanding.  He  was  in  an  atmosphere  he  loved. 
In  the  flat  above  lives  John  Galsworthy;  down-stairs 
dwells  Granville  Barker;  while  just  across  the  street  is 
the   domicile   of   Bernard   Shaw,   whose  windows  face 

Barrie's. 

When  Barrie  wanted  to  notify  Shaw  that  Frohman 
was  with  him,  he  would  throw  bread-crusts  against 
Shaw's  window-panes.  In  a  few  moments  the  sash 
would  fly  up  and  the  famihar,  grinning,  bearded  face 
would  pop  out.     On  one  of  the  occasions  Shaw  yelled 

across : 

*'Are  you  inviting  me  to  a  feast,  Barrie— are  you 
casting  bread  upon   the   troubled   waters  or  is  it  just 

Frohman?" 

In  view  of  Frohman's  perfect  adoration  of  Barrie— 
and  it  amounted  to  nothing  else— it  is  interesting,  as  a 
final  ghmpse  of  the  relation  between  these  men,  to  see 
what  the  American  thought  of  his  friend's  work.  In 
analyzing  Barrie's  work  once,  Frohman  said: 

"Barrie's  distinctive  note  is  humanity.  There  is  rich 
human  blood  in  everything  he  writes.  He  is  a  satirist 
whose  arrows  are  never  barbed  with  vitriol,  but  with  the 
milk  of  human  kindness;  a  humanist  who  never  surfeits 
our  senses,  but  leaves  much  for  our  wilHng  imagination; 
an  optimist  whose  message  is  as  compelling  for  ^  its  rea- 
sonableness as  it  is  welcome  for  its  gentleness." 

Through  Barrie  and  "Peter  Pan"  came  another  close 
and  devoted  friendship  in  Charles  Frohman's  life— the 

261 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

one  with  Pauline  Chase.  This  American  girl  had  been 
engaged  by  one  of  Frohman's  stage-managers  for  a  small 
part  with  Edna  May  in  ''The  Girl  from  Up  There." 
Frohman  did  not  even  knov/  her  in  those  days.  After 
she  made  her  great  success  as  the  Pink  Pa  jama  girl  in 
"Liberty  Belles,"  at  the  Madison  Square  Theater, 
Frohman  engaged  her  and  sent  her  to  England,  where, 
with  the  exception  of  one  visit  to  the  United  States 
in  "Our  Mrs.  Gibbs,"  she  has  remained  ever  since. 

It  was  not  until  she  played  "Peter  Pan"  that  the 
Frohman-Chase  friendship  really  began.  The  way  in 
which  Miss  Chase  came  to  play  the  part  is  interesting. 
Cissie  Loftus,  who  had  been  playing  Peter,  became  ill, 
and  Miss  Chase,  who  had  been  playing  one  of  the  twins, 
and  was  her  understudy,  went  on  to  do  the  more  im- 
portant part  at  a  matinee  in  Liverpool.  Frohman  said 
to  her: 

"Barrie  and  I  are  coming  down  to  see  you  act.  If 
we  like  you  well  enough  to  play  Peter,  I  will  send  you 
back  a  sheet  of  paper  with  a  cross  mark  on  it  after  the 
play." 

At  the  end  of  the  first  act  an  usher  rapped  on  Miss 
Chase's  dressing-room  door  and  handed  her  the  much- 
desired  slip  with  the  cross.  Frohman  sent  word  that  he 
could  not  wait  until  the  end  of  the  play,  because  he  and 
Barrie  were  taking  a  train  back  to  London.  In  this 
unusual  way  Pauline  Chase  secured  the  part  which 
helped  to  endear  her  to  the  man  who  was  her  friend  and 
sponsor. 

Frohman,  Barrie,  and  Miss  Chase  formed  a  trio  who 
went  about  together  a  great  deal  and  had  much  in  com- 
mon, aside  from  the  kinship  of  the  theater.  It  was  for 
Miss  Chase  that  Barrie  wrote  "Pantaloon,"  in  which 

262 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

she  appeared  in  conjunction  with  ** Peter  Pan,"  and 
which  gave  her  a  considerable  reputation  in  England. 

When  Pauline  Chase  was  confirmed  in  the  little  church 
in  Marlow-on-the-Thames,  Barrie  was  her  godfather 
and  Miss  Ellen  Terry  was  her  godmother.  Frohman 
attended  this  ceremony,  and  it  made  a  tremendous  im- 
pression on  him.  He  saw  the  spectacular  side  of  the 
ceremony,  and  the  spiritual  meaning  was  not  lost  on 
him. 

The  personal  comradeship  with  Pauline  Chase  was  one 
of  the  really  beautiful  episodes  in  Frohman 's  life.  He 
was  genuinely  interested  in  this  girl's  career,  and  in 
tribute  to  her  confidence  in  him  she  made  him,  in  con- 
junction with  Barrie,  her  father  confessor.  Here  is  an 
episode  that  is  tenderly  appealing,  and  which  shows 
another  of  the  many  sides  of  his  character: 

Frohman  and  Barrie  were  both  afraid  that  Miss 
Chase  would  marry  without  telling  them  about  it,  so 
a  compact  was  made  by  the  three  that  the  two  men 
should  be  her  mentors.  There  were  many  applicants 
for  the  hand  of  this  lovely  American  girl.  The  success- 
ful suitor  eventually  was  Alec  Drummond,  member  of 
a  distinguished  EngHsh  family,  who  went  to  the  front 
when  the  war  began. 

One  reason  for  Miss  Chase's  devotion  to  Charles  lay 
in  the  fact  that  the  American  manager  had  the  body 
of  her  mother  removed  from  its  resting-place  in  Wash- 
ington to  the  dreamy  little  churchyard  at  Marlow-on- 
the-Thames.  It  is  near  Marlow  that  Miss  Chase  lived 
through  all  the  years  of  the  Frohman-Barrie  comrade- 
ship. Her  little  cottage  at  Tree  Tops,  Famham  Com- 
mon, five  miles  from  Marlow,  was  one  of  the  places  he 
loved  to  visit.     On  the  vine-embowered  porch  he  liked 

263 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

to  sit  and  smoke.  On  the  lawn  he  indulged  in  his  only 
exercise,  croquet,  frequently  with  Barrie  or  Captain 
Scott,  who  died  in  the  Antarctic,  and  Haddon  Chambers, 
who  lived  near  by.  Often  he  went  with  his  hostess  to 
feed  the  chickens. 

But  wherever  he  went  he  carried  plays.  No  matter 
how  late  he  retired  to  his  room,  he  read  a  manuscript 
before  he  went  to  bed.  He  probably  read  more  plays 
than  any  other  manager  in  the  world. 

Frohman  went  to  Marlow  nearly  every  Saturday  in 
summer.  His  custom  was  to  alight  from  the  train  at 
Slough,  where  Miss  Chase  would  meet  him  in  her  car 
and  drive  him  over  to  Marlow,  where  they  lunched  at 
The  Compleat  Angler,  a  charming  inn  on  the  river. 

Miss  Chase  sometimes  playfully  performed  the  office 
of  manicure  for  Frohman.  Once  when  she  was  in  Paris 
he  sent  her  this  telegram: 

Nails. 

Whereupon  she  wired  back: 

I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  bite  them. 

Frohman  then  sent  her  the  telegram  by  mail,  and 
under  it  wrote: 

I  have. 

Of  all  spots  in  England,  and  for  that  matter  in  all 
the  world,  Charles  loved  Marlow  best.  It  is  typical  of 
the  many  contrasts  in  his  crowded  life  that  he  would 
seek  peace  and  sanctuary  in  this  drowsy  English  town 
that  nestled  between  green  hills  on  the  banks  of  the 
Thames.  He  always  said  that  'it  framed  the  loveliest 
memories  of  his  Hfe. 

264 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

When  Miss  Chase  wrote  Frohman  that  she  was  to  be 
confirmed  in  the  little  church  in  Marlow,  she  got  the 
following  reply  from  him,  which  showed  how  dear  the 
drowsy  place  was  in  his  affection : 

Dear  Pauline: — I  am  glad  about  Marlow. 
That  little  church  is  the  only  one  in  the  world  I 
care  for — that  one  across  the  river  at  Marlow. 
Whenever  I  see  it  I  want  to  die  and  stay  there. 

And  Marlow  with  its  long  street  and  nobody 
on  it  is  fine. 

It  was  Haddon  Chambers  who  first  took  Frohman  to 
Marlow,  It  came  about  in  a  natural  way,  because 
Maidenhead,  which  is  a  very  popular  resort  in  England 
(much  frequented  by  theatrical  people)  is  only  a  short 
distance  away.  One  day  Chambers,  who  was  with 
Frohman  at  Maidenhead,  said,  ''There  is  a  lovely,  quiet 
village  called  Marlow  not  far  away.  Let's  go  over 
there."     So  they  went. 

On  this  trip  occurred  one  of  the  many  humorous  ad- 
ventures that  were  always  happening  when  Frohman 
and  Chambers  were  together.  Chambers  had  the 
tickets  and  went  on  ahead.  When  he  reached  the  train 
he  found  that  Frohman  was  not  there.  On  returning 
he  found  his  friend  held  up  by  the  gateman,  who  de- 
manded a  ticket.  Quick  as  a  flash  Chambers  said  to 
him: 

"Why  do  you  keep  His  Grace  waiting?" 

The  gateman  immediately  became  flurried  and  ex- 
cited and  made  apologies.  In  the  mean  time  Frohman, 
who  took  in  the  situation  with  his  usual  quickness, 
looked  solemn  and  dignified  and  then  passed  in  like  a 
peer  of  the  realm. 

18  265 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Chambers  rented  a  cottage  at  Marlow  each  summer, 
and  one  of  the  things  to  which  Frohman  looked  forward 
most  eagerly  was  a  visit  with  him  there.  Frequent 
visits  to  Marlow  made  the  manager  known  to  the  whole 
town.  The  simplicity  of  his  manner  and  his  keen 
interest,  humor,  and  sympathy  won  him  many  friends. 
His  arrival  was  always  more  or  less  of  an  event  in  the 
little  township. 

It  is  a  one-street  place,  with  many  fascinating  old 
shops.  Frohman  loved  to  prowl  around,  look  in  the 
shop  windows,  and  talk  to  the  tradesmen,  who  came  to 
know  and  love  him  and  look  forward  to  his  advent  with 
the  keenest  interest.  To  them  he  was  not  the  great 
American  theatrical  magnate,  but  a  simple,  kindly, 
interested  human  being  who  inquired  about  their  babies 
and  who  had  a  big  and  generous  nature. 

Frohman  once  made  this  remark  about  the  Marlow 
antique  shops:  ''They're  great.  When  I  buy  things 
the  proprietor  always  tells  me  whether  they  are  real 
or  only  fake  stuff.  That's  because  I'm  one  of  his 
friends."  It  was  typical  of  the  man  that  he  was  as 
proud  of  this  friendship  as  with  that  of  a  prince. 

On  the  tramps  through  Marlow  he  was  often  accom- 
panied by  Miss  Chase  and  Haddon  Chambers.  He  had 
three  particular  friends  in  the  "town.  One  was  Muriel 
Kilby,  daughter  of  the  keeper  of  The  Compleat  Angler. 
When  Frohman  first  went  to  Marlow  she  was  a  slip  of 
a  child.  He  watched  her  grow  up  with  an  increasing 
pride.  This  great  and  busy  man  found  time  in  New 
York  to  write  her  notes  full  of  friendly  affection.  A  few 
days  before  the  Lusitania  went  down  she  received  a  note 
from  him  saying  that  he  was  soon  to  sail,  and  looked  for- 
ward with  eagerness  to  his  usual  stay  at  Marlow. 

266 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

Through  Miss  Kilby  Frohman  became  more  intimately 
a  part  of  the  local  life  of  Marlow.  She  was  head  of  the 
Marlow  Amateur  Dramatic  Society,  which  gave  an 
amateur  play  every  year.  Frohman  became  a  member, 
paid  the  five  shillings  annual  dues,  and  whenever  it 
was  possible  he  went  to  their  performances.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  Marlow  Dramatic  Society  has  prob- 
ably the  most  distinguished  non-resident  membership 
in  the  world,  for  besides  Frohman  (and  through  him)  it 
includes  Barrie,  Haddon  Chambers,  Pauline  Chase, 
Marie  Lohr,  William  Gillette,  and  Marc  Klaw.  Froh- 
man always  took  his  close  American  friends  to  Marlow. 
One  of  the  prices  they  paid  was  membership  in  the 
amateur  dramatic  society. 

Like  every  really  great  man,  Charles  Frohman  was 
tremendously  simple,  as  his  friendship  with  W.  R.  Clark, 
the  Marlow  butcher,  shows.  Clark  is  a  big,  ruddy, 
John  Bull  sort  of  man,  whose  shop  is  one  of  the  main 
sights  of  High  Street  in  the  village.  Frohman  regarded 
his  day  at  Marlow  incomplete  without  a  visit  to  Clark. 
One  day  he  met  Clark  dressed  up  in  his  best  clothes. 
He  asked  Clark  where  he  was  going. 

"I  am  going  to  visit  my  pigs,"  replied  the  butcher}^ 
Frohman  thought  this  a  great  joke,  and  never  tired  of 
telling  it. 

Once  when  Frohman  gave  out  an  interview  about  his 
friends  in  Marlow,  he  sent  the  clipping  to  his  friend 
Clark,  who  wrote  him  a  letter,  which  contained,  among 
other  things: 

I  can  assure  you  I  quite  appreciate  your  kind- 
ness in  sending  the  cutting  to  me.     When  the 
township    oj   Marlow    has    obtained  from    His 
267 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Majesty  King  George  the  necessary  charter  to 
become  a  county  borough,  and  you  offer  yourself 
for  the  position  of  Mayor,  I  will  give  you  my 
whole-hearted  support  and  influence  to  secure  your 
election. 

Then,  too,  there  was  Jones,  the  Marlow  barber,  who 
shaved  Frohman  for  a  penny  because  he  was  a  regular 
customer. 

"Jones  is  a  great  man,"  Frohman  used  to  say.  ''He 
never  charges  me  more  than  a  penny  for  a  shave  because 
I  am  one  of  his  regular  customers.  Otherwise  it  would 
be  twopence.  I  always  give  his  boy  a  sixpence,  how- 
ever, but  Jones  doesn't  know  that." 

Indeed,  the  people  of  Marlow  looked  upon  Frohman 
as  their  very  own.  He  always  said  that  he  wanted  to 
be  buried  in  the  churchyard  by  the  river.  This  church- 
yard had  a  curious  interest  for  him.  He  used  to  wan- 
der around  in  it  and  struck  up  quite  an  acquaintance 
with  the  wife  of  the  sexton.  She  was  always  depressed 
because  times  were  so  bad  and  no  one  was  dying.  Then 
an  artist  died  and  was  buried  there,  and  the  old  woman 
cheered  up  considerably.  Frohman  used  to  tell  her  that 
the  only  funeral  that  he  expected  to  attend  was  his 
own. 

**And  mark  you,"  he  said,  for  he  could  never  resist 
a  jest,  "you  must  take  precious  good  care  of  my  grave." 

His  wish  to  lie  in  Marlow  was  not  attained,  but  in 
tribute  to  the  love  he  had  for  it  the  memorial  that  his 
friends  in  England  have  raised  to  him — a  fountain — 
stands  to-day  at  the  head  of  High  Street  in  the  little 
town  where  he  loved  to  roam,  the  place  in  which  he 
felt,  perhaps,  more  at  home  than  any  other_spot  on 

268 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

earth.  Had  he  made  the  choice  himself  he  would  have 
preferred  this  simple,  sincere  tribute,  in  the  midst  of 
simple,  unaffected  people  who  knew  him  and  loved  him, 
to  stained  glass  in  the  stateliest  of  cathedrals. 

Charles  cared  absolutely  nothing  for  honors.  He  was 
content  to  hide  behind  the  mask  of  his  activities.  He 
would  never  even  appear  before  an  audience.  Almost 
unwilHngly  he  was  the  recipient  of  the  greatest  compli- 
ment ever  paid  an  American  theatrical  man  in  England. 
It  happened  in  this  way: 

One  season  when  Frohman  had  lost  an  unusual  amount 
of  money,  Sir  John  Hare  gathered  together  some  of  his 
colleagues. 

*' Frohman  has  done  big  things,"  Hare  said  to  them. 
"He  loses  his  money  like  a  gentleman.  Let  us  make 
him  feel  that  he  is  not  just  an  American,  but  one  of  us." 

A  dinner  was  planned  in  his  honor  at  the  Garrick 
Club.  He  is  the  only  American  theatrical  manager  to 
be  elected  to  membership  in  this  exclusive  club.  When 
Frohman  was  apprised  of  the  dinner  project  he  shrank 
from  it. 

''I  don't  like  that  sort  of  thing,"  he  said.  ''Besides, 
I  can't  make  a  speech." 

"But  you  won't  have  to  make  a  speech,"  said  Sir 
Arthur  Pinero,  who  headed  the  committee. 

Frohman  tried  in  every  possible  way  to  evade  this 
dinner.  Finally  he  accepted  on  the  condition  that  when 
the  time  came  for  him  to  respond  he  was  merely  to  get 
up,  bow  his  acknowledgment,  and  say,  "Thank  you." 
This  he  managed  to  do. 

At  this  dinner,  over  which  Sir  John  Hare  presided, 
Frohman  was  presented  with  a  massive  silver  cigarette- 

269 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

box,  on  which  was  engraved  the  facsimile  signatures  of 
every  one  present.  These  signatures  comprise  the 
** Who's  Who"  of  the  British  theater.  These  princes  of 
the  drama  were  proud  and  glad  to  call  themselves  '*A 
few  of  his  friends,"  as  the  inscription  on  the  box 
read. 

The  signers  were,  among  others,  Sir  Arthur  Finer o, 
Sir  Charles  Wyndham,  Sir  John  Hare,  Sir  Herbert  Beer- 
bohm  Tree,  Sir  James  M.  Barrie,  Alfred  Sutro,  Cyril 
Maude,  H.  B.  Irving,  Lawrence  Irving,  Louis  N.  Parker, 
Anthony  Hope,  A.  E.  W.  Mason,  Seymour  Hicks,  Robert 
Marshall,  W.  Comyns  Carr,  Weedon  Grossmith,  Gerald 
Du  Maurier,  Eric  Lewis,  Dion  Boucicault,  A.  E.  Mat- 
thews, Arthur  Bouchier,  Cosmo  Hamilton,  Allan  Aynes- 
worth,  R.  C.  Carton,  Sam  Sothern,  and  C.  Aubrey 
Smith. 

Nothing  gave  Charles  more  satisfaction  in  England 
perhaps  than  his  encouragement  of  the  British  play- 
wright. "He  inherited  Pinero  from  his  brother  Daniel, 
and  remained  his  steadfast  friend  and  producer  until  his 
death.  Pinero  would  not  think  of  submitting  a  play 
to  any  other  American  manager  mthout  giving  Froh- 
man  the  first  call.  In  all  the  years  of  their  relations, 
during  which  Charles  paid  Pinero  a  large  fortune,  there 
was  not  a  sign  of  contract  between  them. 

Frohman  practically  made  Somerset  Maugham  in 
America.  His  first  association  with  this  gifted  young 
Englishman  was  typical  of  the  man's  method  of  doing 
business.  Maugham  had  written  a  play  called  "Mrs. 
Dot,"  in  which  Marie  Tempest  was  to  appear.  Fred- 
erick Harrison,  of  the  Hay  market  Theater,  had  an  option 
on  it,  which  had  just  expired.     Another  manager  wanted 

270 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

the  play.  Frohman  heard  of  it,  and  asked  to  be  allowed 
to  read  it.     Maugham  then  said : 

"It  must  be  decided  to-night." 

It  was  then  dinner-time. 

**Glve  me  three  hours,"  said  Frohman. 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  he  called  up  Maugham 
at  his  house  and  accepted  the  play,  which  was  probably 
the  quickest  reading  and  acceptance  on  record  in  Eng- 
land. 

Another  experience  with  Maugham  shows  how  Froh- 
man really  inspired  plays. 

He  was  riding  on  the  train  with  the  playwright  when 
he  suddenly  said  to  him: 

**I  want  a  new  play  from  you." 

"All  right,"  said  Maugham. 

Frohman  thought  a  moment,  and  suddenly  flashed 
out: 

"Why  not  rewrite  'The  Taming  of  the  Shrew'  with 
a  new  background?" 

"All  right,"  said  Maugham. 

The  result  was  Maugham's  play  "The  Land  of 
Promise,"  which  was  really  built  around  Frohman 's  idea. 

Frohman  produced  all  of  Maugham's  plays  in  America, 
and  most  of  them  were  great  successes.  He  also  did 
the  great  majority  of  them  in  England.  Maugham 
waxed  so  prosperous  that  he  was  able  to  buy  a  charming 
old  residence  in  Chesterfield  Street  which  he  remodeled 
in  elaborate  fashion.  On  its  completion  his  first  dinner 
guest  was  Charles  Frohman.  When  Maugham  sent 
him  the  invitation  it  read : 

Will  you  come  and  see  the  house  that  Froh- 
man built  ? 

271 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

In  the  same  way  he  developed  men  Hke  Michael 
Morton.  He  would  see  a  French  farce  in  the  Paris 
theaters,  and,  although  he  could  not  understand  a  word 
of  French,  he  got  the  spirit  and  the  meaning  through 
its  action.  He  would  buy  the  play,  go  to  London  with 
the  manuscript,  and  get  Morton  or  Paul  Potter  to  adapt 
it  for  American  consumption. 

Life  in  London  to  Charles  Frohman  was  one  series 
of  adventures.  Like  Hanm-al-Rashid  in  the  Arabian 
Nights,  he  delighted  to  wander  about,  often  with  Barrie, 
sometimes  with  Lestocq,  seeking  out  strange  and  pic- 
turesque places  in  which  to  eat. 

These  adventures  began  in  his  earliest  days  in  Eng- 
land.    Here  is  a  characteristic  experience: 

One  day  MadeHne  Lucette  Ryley,  the  playwright, 
came  to  see  him  in  his  office  in  Henrietta  Street.  A  bat- 
tered old  man  was  hanging  around  the  door. 

"Did  you  see  that  man  outside?"  asked  Frohman. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Ryley.     "Is  he  the  bailiff?" 

"Oh  no,"  said  Frohman,  "he  is  a  Maidenhead  cabby." 
This  is  the  story  of  how  he  came  there. 

The  day  before  Frohman  had  been  down  to  Maiden- 
head alone  for  luncheon.  At  the  station  he  hailed  a 
cabby  who  was  driving  a  battered  old  fly. 

"Where  to.  Governor?"  asked  the  man. 

"Number  5  Henrietta  Street,"  said  Frohman. 

"No  such  place  in  Maidenhead,"  said  the  driver. 

"Oh,  I  mean  the  place  opposite  Covent  Garden  in 
London." 

The  old  cabby  wasn't  a  bit  flustered,  but  he  said,  "I 
will  have  to  get  a  new  horse." 

He  changed  horses  and  they  made  the  long  way  to 

272 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

London,  arriving  there  considerably  after  nightfall. 
When  Frohman  asked  for  his  bill  the  old  man  said,  with 
some  hesitation: 

*'I'm  afraid  it  will  cost  you  five  pounds." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Frohman,  and  paid  the  bill. 

To  his  great  surprise,  the  cabby  showed  up  next 
morning,  saying:  ''I  like  London.  I  think  I'll  stay 
here."  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  Froh- 
man got  rid  of  him.  When  the  cabby  finally  started 
to  go  he  said: 

''Well,  Governor,  if  you  want  to  go  back  to  Maiden- 
head I'll  do  it  for  half-price." 

A  short  time  after  this  incident  Frohman,  whose 
purse  was  none  too  full  then,  asked  some  people  to  dine 
with  him  at  the  Hotel  Cecil.  By  some  mistake  he  and 
his  party  were  shown  into  a  room  that  had  been  arranged 
for  a  very  elaborate  dinner.  Before  he  realized  it  the 
waiter  began  to  serve  the  meal.  He  soon  knew  that  it 
was  not  the  menu  he  had  ordered,  and  was  costing 
twenty  times  more.  But  he  was  game  and  stuck  to  it. 
It  was  midwinter,  and  when  the  fresh  peaches  came  on 
he  said  to  the  woman  on  his  right: 

"This  will  break  me,  I  know,  but  we  might  as  well 
have  a  good  time." 

Frohman  almost  invariably  took  one  of  his  American 
friends  to  England  with  him.  It  was  usually  Charles 
Dillingham,  Paul  Potter,  or  William  Gillette. 

On  one  of  Gillette's  many  trips  with  him  Frohman 
got  up  an  elaborate  supper  for  Mark  Twain  at  the  Savoy 
and  invited  a  brilliant  group  of  celebrities,  including  all 
three  of  the  Irvings,  Beerbohm  Tree,  Chauncey  M. 
Depew,  Sir  Charles  Wyndham,  Haddon  Chambers,  Nat 
Goodwin,  and  Arthur  Bouchier.     In  his  inconspicuous 

273 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

way,  however,  he  made  it  appear  that  Gillette  was  giving 
the  supper. 

Midnight  arrived,  and  Twain  had  not  shown  up.  It 
was  before  the  days  of  taxis,  so  Dillingham  was  sent 
after  him  in  a  hansom.  After  going  to  the  wrong  ad- 
dress, he  finally  located  the  humorist  in  Chelsea.  He 
found  Mark  Twain  sitting  in  his  dressing-gown,  smoking 
a  Pittsburg  stogie  and  reading  a  book. 

**Did  you  forget  all  about  the  supper?"  asked  Dilling- 
ham. 

"No,"  was  the  drawling  reply,  ''but  I  didn't  know 
where  the  blamed  thing  was.  I  had  a  notion  that  some 
one  of  you  would  come  for  me." 

Mark  Twain  and  Frohman  were  great  friends.  They 
were  often  together  in  London.  Their  favorite  diversion 
was  to  play  ** hearts." 

The  great  humorist  once  drew  a  picture  of  Charles, 
and  under  it  wrote: 

A^.  B.  I  cannot  make  a  good  mouth.  There- 
fore leave  it  out.  There  is  enough  without  it, 
anyway.     Done  with-  the  best  ink. 

M.  T. 

Underneath  this  inscription  he  wrote: 

To  Charles  Frohman,  Master  of  Hearts. 

Few  things  in  England  pleased  Frohman  more  than 
to  play  a  joke  on  Gillette,  for  the  author  of  ''Secret 
Service,"  like  his  great  friend,  relaxed  when  he  was  on 
the  other  side.  When  Frohman  produced  "Sue"  in 
England  an  amusing  incident  happened. 

Frohman  had  brought  over  Annie  Russell  and  Ida 
Conquest  for  his  piece.     The  actresses  were  very  much 

274 


OTIS  SKINNER 


ENGLISH    FRIENDSHIPS 

excited  before  the  first  night,  and  went  without  dinner. 
After  the  play  they  were  very  hungry.  On  going  to  the 
Savoy  they  encountered  the  English  prohibition  against 
serving  women  at  night  when  unaccompanied  by  men. 
After  trying  at  several  places  they  went  to  their  lodging 
in  Langham  Place  almost  famished. 

In  desperation  they  telephoned  to  Dillingham,  who 
was  playing  "hearts"  at  the  Savoy  with  Frohman  and 
Gillette.  He  hurriedly  got  some  food  together  in  a 
basket,  and  with  his  two  friends  drove  to  where  the  young 
women  were  staying.  The  house  was  dark;  fruitless 
pulls  at  the  door-bell  showed  that  it  was  broken.  It  was 
impossible  to  raise  any  one. 

Dillingham  knew  that  the  actresses  were  occupying 
rooms  on  the  second  floor  front.  He  had  five  large 
English  copper  pennies  in  his  pocket,  and  so  he  started 
to  throw  them  up  to  the  window  to  attract  their  atten- 
tion.    He  threw  four,  and  each  fell  short. 

"This  is  the  last  copper,"  he  said  to  Frohman.  "If 
we  can't  reach  the  girls  with  this  they  will  have  to  go 
hungry." 

Whereupon  Frohman  said:  "Let  Gillette  throw  it. 
He  can  make  a  penny  go  further  than  any  man  in  the 
world." 

Such  was  Charles  Frohman^s  English  life.  It  was 
joyous,  almost  rollicking,  and  pervaded  with  the  spirit 
of  adventure.  Yet  behind  all  the  humor  was  something 
deep,  searching,  and  significant,  because  in  England,  as 
in  America,  this  man  was  a  vital  and  constructive  force, 
and  where  he  went,  whether  in  laughter  or  in  serious- 
ness, he  left  his  impress. 


XIII 

A   GALAXY    OF    STARS 

r'HE  last  decade  of  Charles  Frohman's  life  was  one 
of  continuous  star-making  linked  with  far-flung 
enterprise.     He  now  had  a  chain  of  theaters  that 
reached  from  Boston  by  way  of  Chicago  to  Seattle;  his 
productions  at  home  kept  on  apace;  his  prestige  abroad 
widened. 

Frohman  had  watched  the  development  of  Otis 
Skinner  with  great  interest.  That  fine  and  representa- 
tive American  actor  had  thrived  under  his  own  manage- 
ment. Early  in  the  season  of  1905  he  revived  his  first 
starring  vehicle,  a  costume  play  by  Clyde  Fitch,  called 
**His  Grace  de  Grammont."  It  failed,  however,  and 
Skinner  looked  about  for  another  piece.  He  heard 
that  Frohman,  who  had  a  corner  on  French  plays  for 
America,  owned  the  rights  to  Lavedan's  play  "The 
Duel,"  which  had  scored  a  big  success  in  Paris.  He 
knew  that  the  leading  role  ideally  fitted  his  talent  and 
temperament. 

Skinner  went  to  Frohman  and  asked  him  if  he  could 
produce  ''The  Duel"  in  America. 

"Why  don't  you  do  it  under  my  management?"  asked 
the  manager. 

"All  right,"  replied  the  actor,  "I  will." 

With  these  few  remarks  began  the  connection  between 
Charles  Frohman  and  Otis  Skinner. 

276 


A   GALAXY   OF   STARS 

It  was  during  the  closing  years  of  Frohman's  life 
that  his  genius  for  singling  out  gifted  young  women 
for  eminence  found  its  largest  expression.  Typical  of 
them  was  Marie  Doro,  a  Dresden-doll  type  of  girl  who 
made  her  first  stage  appearance,  as  did  Billie  Burke  and 
Elsie  Ferguson,  in  musical  comedy. 

Charles  Frohman  saw  her  in  a  play  called  ''The 
Billionaire"  at  Daly's  Theater  in  New  York,  in  which 
she  sang  and  danced.  He  had  an  unerring  eye  for 
beauty  and  talent.  With  her,  as  with  others  that  he 
transported  from  musical  pieces  to  straight  drama,  he 
had  an  uncanny  perception.  He  engaged  her  and 
featured  her  in  a  slender  little  play  called  "Friquette." 

Miss  Doro  made  such  an  impression  on  her  first  ap- 
pearance that  Frohman  now  put  her  in  ''Clarice,'' 
written  by  William  Gillette,  in  which  he  also  appeared. 
Her  success  swept  her  nearer  to  stardom,  for  she  next 
appeared  in  a  Frohman  production  which,  curiously 
enough,  reflected  one  of  Frohman's  sentimental  moods. 

For  many  years  Mrs.  G.  H.  Gilbert  was  a  famous 
figure  on  the  American  stage.  She  had  been  one  of  the 
"Big  Four"  of  Augustin  Daly's  company  for  many 
years,  and  remained  with  Daly  until  his  death.  She  was 
the  beloved  first  old  woman  of  the  dramatic  profession. 
When  the  Daly  company  disbanded  Mrs.  Gilbert  did  not 
prepare  to  retire.     She  was  hearty  and  active. 

Frohman  realized  what  a  warm  place  this  grand  old 
w^oman  had  in  the  affection  of  theater-goers  after  all 
the  years  of  faithful  labor,  so  he  said  to  himself: 

"Here  is  a  wonderful  old  woman  who  has  never  been 
a  star.  She  must  have  this  great  experience  before  she 
dies." 

He   engaged    Clyde    Fitch    to   write   a   play   called 

277 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

"Granny,"  in  which  Mrs.  Gilbert  was  starred.  It  made 
her  very  happy,  and  she  Hterally  died  in  the  part. 

In  the  cast  of  "Granny"  Miss  Doro's  youthful  and 
exquisite  beauty  shone  anew.  Her  success  with  the 
press  and  the  public  was  little  short  of  phenomenal. 
Charles  now  saw  Miss  Doro  as  star.  He  held  youth, 
beauty,  and  talent  to  be  the  great  assets,  and  he  seldom 
made  a  mistake.  It  was  no  vanity  that  made  him  feel 
that  if  an  artist  pleased  him  she  would  likewise  please 
the  public. 

Frohman  now  starred  Miss  Doro  in  the  stage  adapta- 
tion of  William  J.  Locke's  charming  story,  "The  Morals 
of  Marcus."  She  became  one  of  his  pet  protegees. 
With  her,  as  with  the  other  young  women,  he  delighted 
to  nurse  talent.  He  conducted  their  rehearsals  with 
a  view  of  developing  all  their  resources,  and  to 
show  every  facet  of  their  temperaments.  Failure  never 
daunted  him  so  long  as  he  had  confidence  in  his  ward. 
This  was  especially  the  case  with  Miss  Doro,  who  was 
unfortunate  in  a  long  string  of  unsuccessful  plays. 
Frohman's  faith  in  her,  however,  was  at  last  justified, 
when  she  played  Dora  in  Sardou's  great  play,  "Diplo- 
macy," with  brilliant  success  a  year  in  London  and 
later  in  New  York. 

With  the  exception  of  Maude  Adams  and  Ann  Mur- 
dock,  no  Frohman  star  had  so  swift  or  spectacular  a 
rise  as  Billie  Burke.  Her  story  is  one  of  the  real  ro- 
mances of  the  Frohman  star-making. 

Billie  Burke  was  the  daughter  of  a  humble  circus 
clown  in  America.  From  him  she  probably  inherited 
her  mimetic  gifts.  At  the  beginning  of  her  career  she 
had  obscure  parts  in  American  musical  pieces. 

278 


MARIE    DORO 


A    GALAXY    OF    STARS 

It  was  in  London,  however,  that  she  first  came  under 
the  observation  of  Charles.  She  had  graduated  from 
the  chorus  to  a  part  in  Edna  May's  great  success,  "The 
School  Girl."  She  had  a  song  called  **Put  Me  in  My 
Litcle  Canoe,"  which  made  a  great  hit.  Frohman  be- 
came so  much  interested  thai  he  thought  of  sending 
Miss  Burke  to  America  in  the  piece.  He  transferred 
the  song  to  Miss  May,  which  left  Miss  Burke  with 
scarcely  any  opportunity.  Subsequently  she  was  put 
in  "The  Belle  of  Mayfair,"  and  afterward  replaced  Miss 
May  when  she  retired. 

Louis  N.  Parker  saw  her  in  this  piece  and  agreed  with 
Frohman  that  the  girl  had  possibilities  as  a  serious 
actress.  She  was  cast  for  her  first  dramatic  part  in 
"The  Honorable  George,"  the  play  he  was  then  pro- 
ducing in  London. 

When  Michael  Morton  adapted  a  very  beguiling 
French  play  called  "My  Wife,"  Frohman  saw  that  here 
was  Miss  Burke's  opportunity  for  America.  He  secured 
her  release  from  the  Gattis,  who  controlled  her  English 
appearances,  and  made  her  John  Drew's  leading  woman. 
She  met  his  confidence  by  adapting  herself  to  the  role 
with  great  brilliancy  and  effect.  Indeed,  with  Miss 
Burke,  Frohman  introduced  a  distinct  and  piquant 
reddish-blond  type  of  beauty  to  the  American  stage. 
It  became  known  as  the  "Billie  Burke  type."  Realiz- 
ing this,  Frohman  was  very  careful  to  adapt  her  personal 
appearance,  humor,  and  temperament  to  her  plays. 
He  literally  had  plays  written  about  her  peculiar  gifts. 

Miss  Burke's  great  success  in  "My  Wife"  projected 
her  into  the  Frohman  stellar  heaven.  She  was  launched 
as  a  star  in  "Love  Watches,"  an  adaptation  from  the 
French,    securely   established   herself   in   the   favor   of 

279 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

theater-goers,  and  from  that  time  on  her  appearance 
in  a  chic,  smart  play  became  one  of  the  distinct  features 
of  the  annual  Frohman  season.  Her  most  distinguished 
success  was  with  Pinero's  play  "Mind  the  Paint  Girl," 
in  which  Frohman  was  greatly  interested. 

Few  of  Frohman's  ''discoveries"  justified  his  con- 
fidence with  lovelier  success  than  Julia  Sanderson.  Her 
first  public  appearance  on  the  stage  had  been  in  vaude- 
ville. When  Frohman  sought  a  comedienne  with  a 
certain  dainty,  lady -like  quality  for  the  English  musical 
play  called  "The  Dairymaids,"  which  he  produced  at 
the  Criterion  in  1907,  his  attention  was  called  to  this 
charming  girl,  then  doing  musical  numbers  in  a  New 
York  vaudeville  theater.  Frohman  went  to  see  her, 
and  was  fascinated  by  her  beauty  and  charm.  He 
noted,  most  of  all,  a  certain  gentle  quality  in  her  per- 
sonality, and  with  his  peculiar  genius  in  adapting  plays 
to  people  and  people  to  plays,  she  fairly  bloomed  under 
his  persuasive  and  sympathetic  sponsorship. 

Frohman  now  obtained  "The  Arcadians,"  in  which 
Miss  Sanderson  was  featured.  Of  all  the  musical  plays 
that  he  produced,  this  was  perhaps  his  favorite.  He 
liked  it  so  much  that  he  told  Miss  Sanderson  one  day 
during  rehearsal: 

"If  the  public  does  not  like  'The  Arcadians,'  then  I 
am  finished  with  light  opera." 

"The  Arcadians,"  however,  proved  to  be  a  gratify- 
ing vsuccess,  and  Frohman's  confidence  was  vindicated. 
Frohman  w^as  undergoing  his  long  and  almost  fatal  ill- 
ness at  the  Knickerbocker  Hotel  when  "The  Arcadians" 
was  being  rehearsed.  He  was  so  fond  of  the  music  that 
whenever  possible  the  rehearsals  in  which  Miss  Sander- 
son sang  were  conducted  in  his  rooms  at  the  hotel. 

280 


JULIA    SANDERSON 


A    GALAXY    OF    STARS 

He  always  said  that  he  could  see  the  whole  performance 
in  her  singing.  In  rehearsing  her  he  always  seemed  to 
well-nigh  break  her  heart,  but  it  was  his  way,  as  he 
afterward  admitted,  of  provoking  her  emotional  tem- 
perament. 

He  next  gave  her  a  strong  part  in  "The  Siren,"  and 
subsequently  made  her  a  co-star  with  Donald  Brian  in 
"The  Sunshine  Girl,"  which  brought  out  to  the  fullest 
advantage,  so  far,  her  exquisite  and  alluring  qualities. 

The  last  star  to  twinkle  into  life  under  the  Frohman 
wand  was  Ann  Murdock.  Here  is  presented  an  extraor- 
dinary example  of  the  way  that  Charles  literally  "made" 
stars,  for  seldom,  if  ever,  before  has  a  young  actress  been 
so  quickly  raised  from  obscurity  to  eminence.  Almost 
overnight  he  lifted  her  into  fame. 

Miss  Murdock,  who  was  born  in  New  York,  and  had 
spent  her  childhood  in  Port  Washington,  Long  Island, 
was  not  a  stage-struck  girl.  She  went  on  the  stage 
because  she  made  up  her  mind  that  she  wanted  more 
nice  frocks  than  she  was  having.  She  rode  over  to  New 
York  one  day  and  went  to  Henry  B.  Harris's  office  to 
get  a  position.  As  she  sat  waiting  among  a  score  of 
applicants,  Harris  came  out.  He  was  so  much  taken 
with  her  striking  Titian  beauty  and  unaffected  giriish 
charm  that  he  immediately  asked  her  to  come  in  ahead 
of  the  rest,  and  gave  her  a  small  part  in  one  of  "The 
Lion  and  the  Mouse"  road  companies.  When  Harris 
saw  her  act  he  took  her  out  of  the  cast  and  put  her  in 
a  new  production  that  he  was  making  in  New  York. 

At  the  end  of  the  season  she  wanted  to  get  under 
Charles  Frohman's  management,  so  she  went  to  the 
Empire  Theater  to  try  her  luck.  There  she  met  William 
19  281 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Gillette,  who  was  making  one  of  his  numerous  revivals 
of  "Secret  Service."  The  moment  he  saw  this  fresh, 
appealing  young  girl  he  Immediately  cast  her  in  his 
mind  for  the  part  of  the  young  Southern  girl.  After 
he  had  talked  with  her,  however,  he  said: 

'*I  think  it  would  be  best  if  I  wrote  a  part  for  you. 
I  am  now  working  on  a  play,  and  I  think  you  had  better 
go  in  that." 

Miss  Murdock  now  appeared  in  Gillette's  new  play, 
"Electricity,"  in  which  Marie  Doro  was  starred.  Charles 
Frohman  saw  her  at  the  opening  rehearsal  for  the  first 
time. 

"Electricity"  was  a  failure.  Instead  of  following  up 
her  connection  with  the  Frohman  office,  she  went  to  the 
cast  of  "A  Pair  of  Sixes,"  in  which  she  played  for  a 
whole  season  on  Broadway,  displaying  qualities  which 
brought  her  conspicuously  before  the  public  and  to  the 
notice  of  the  man  who  was  to  do  so  much  for  her. 

One  night  Charles  stopped  in  to  see  this  farce.  He 
had  never  forgotten  the  lovely  young  girl  who  had 
played  in  "Electricity."  The  next  day  he  sent  for  Miss 
Murdock,  offered  her  an  engagement,  and  made  another 
of  those  simple  arrangements,  for  he  said  to  her: 

"You  are  with  me  for  life." 

This  was  Frohman 's  way  of  telling  an  actor  or  actress 
that,  without  the  formality  of  a  contract,  they  were 
to  look  to  him  each  season  for  employment  and 
that  they  need  not  worry  about  engagements. 

From  this  time  on  Frohman  took  an  earnest  interest 
in  Miss  Murdock's  career.  He  saw  in  her,  as  he  had 
seen  in  only  a  few  of  his  women  stars,  an  immense  op- 
portunity to  create  a  new  and  distinct  type. 

Just  about  this  time  he  became  very  much  interested 

282 


ANN  MURDOCK 


A    GALAXY   OF    STARS 

in  the  English  adaptation  of  a  French  play  which  he 
called  "The  Beautiful  Adventure,"  which  was,  curiously 
enough,  one  of  the  plays  uppermost  in  his  mind  on  the 
day  he  went  to  his  death. 

He  now  did  a  daring  but  characteristic  Frohman 
thing.  He  believed  implicitly  in  Miss  Murdock's 
talents;  he  felt  that  the  part  of  the  ingenuous  young 
girl  in  this  play  was  ideally  suited  to  her  pleading  per- 
sonality, so,  in  conjunction  with  Mrs.  Thomas  Whiff  en 
and  Charles  Cherry,  he  featured  her  in  the  cast.  Miss 
Murdock's  characterization  amply  justified  Frohman's 
confidence,  but  the  play  failed  in  New  York  and  on  the 
road.     He  wrote  to  Miss  Murdock: 

I  am  afraid  our  little  play  is  too  gentle  for  the 
West.  Come  hack.  I  have  something  else  for 
you. 

He  now  put  Miss  Murdock  into  Porter  Emerson 
Browne's  play  "A  Girl  of  To-day,"  which  had  its  first 
presentation  in  Washington.  Frohman,  Miss  Murdock, 
and  her  mother  were  riding  from  the  station  in  Wash- 
ington to  the  Shoreham  Hotel.  As  they  passed  the  New 
National  Theater,  where  the  young  actress  was  to  ap- 
pear, Miss  Murdock  suddenly  looked  out  of  the  cab  and 
saw  the  following  inscription  in  big  type  on  the  bill : 

Charles  Frohman  presents  Ann  Murdock  in'' A 
Girl  of  To-day,'' 

It  was  the  first  intimation  that  she  had  been  made 
a  star,  and  she  burst  into  tears.  In  this  episode  Froh- 
man had  repeated  what  he  had  done  in  the  case  of 
Ethel  Barry  more  ten  years  before. 

Frohman  had  predicted  great  things  for  Miss  Mur- 

283 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

dock,  for  at  the  time  of  his  death  there  was  no  doubt 
of  the  fact  that  she  was  destined,  in  his  mind,  for  a 
very  remarkable  career. 

But  those  last  years  of  Frohman's  life  were  not  con- 
fined exclusively  to  the  pleasant  and  grateful  task  of 
making  lovely  women  stars.  The  men  also  had  a  chance, 
as  the  case  of  Donald  Brian  shows.  Frohman  had  been 
much  impressed  with  his  success  in  "The  Merry  Widow," 
so  he  put  him  under  his  management  and  starred  him 
in  "The  Dollar  Princess,"  which  was  the  first  of  a  series 
of  Brian  successes. 

Frohman  saw  that  Brian  had  youth,  charm,  and 
pleasing  appearance.  He  was  an  unusually  good  singer 
and  an  expert  dancer.  He  was  equipped  to  give  dis- 
tinction to  the  musical  play  Frohman  wanted  to  pre- 
sent. He  had  watched  the  interest  of  his  audiences, 
and  saw  that  young  Brian  was  a  distinct  favorite  with 
women  as  well  as  men,  and  his  success  as  star  justified 
all  these  plans. 

While  Frohman  was  making  new  stars,  older  ones 
came  under  his  control  in  swift  succession,  among 
them  Madame  Nazimova,  William  Courtnay,  James  K. 
Hackett,  Kyrle  Bellew,  Mrs.  Fiske,  Charles  Cherry, 
John  Mason,  Martha  Hedman,  Alexandra  Carlisle, 
William  Courtleigh,  Nat  Goodwin,  Blanche  Bates, 
Hattie  Williams,  Gertrude  Elliott,  Constance  Collier, 
Richard  Carle,  and  Cyril  Maude. 

Frohman  now  reached  the  very  apex  of  his  career. 
"""^  At  one  time  he  had  twenty-eight  stars  under  his  man- 
agement; and  in  addition  fully  as  many  more  com- 
panies bore  his  name  throughout  the  country.  To  be  a 
Frohman  star  was  the  acme  of  stage  ambition,  for  it  not 

284 


A    GALAXY   OF    STARS 

only  meant  professional  distinction,  but  equitable  and 
honorable  treatment. 

The  year  19 15  dawned  with  fateful  significance  for 
Charles  Frohman.  With  its  advent  began  a  chain  of 
happenings  that,  in  the  light  of  later  events,  seemed 
almost  prophetic  of  the  fatal  hour  which  was  now 
closing  in. 

Perhaps  the  most  picturesque  and  significant  of  these 
events  was  the  reconciliation  with  his  old  friend  David 
Belasco.  Twelve  years  before,  through  an  apparently 
trivial  thing,  a  breach  had  developed  between  these  two 
men  whose  fortunes  had  been  so  intimately  entwined. 
They  had  launched  their  careers  in  New  York  together; 
the  old  Madison  Square  Theater  had  housed  their  first 
theatrical  ambition;  they  had  kept  pace  on  the  road  to 
fame ;  their  joint  productions  had  been  features  of  the  New 
York  stage.     Yet  for  twelve  years  they  had  not  spoken. 

Frohman  became  ill,  and  lay  stricken  at  the  Knicker- 
bocker Hotel.  That  he  had  thought  much  of  his  old 
comrade,  so  long  estranged,  was  evident.  A  remark- 
able coincidence  resulted.  It  was  like  an  act  in  any 
one  of  the  many  plays  they  had  produced. 

One  afternoon  Belasco,  who  had  heard  of  the  serious 
plight  of  Frohman,  sat  in  his  studio  on  the  top  floor 
of  the  Belasco  Theater.  There,  amid  his  Old  World 
curios,  he  pondered  over  the  past. 

"*C.  F.'  is  lying  ill  at  the  Knickerbocker,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "He  may  die.  I  must  see  him.  This  quarrel 
of  ours  is  a  great  mistake.'* 

He  started  to  write  a  note  to  his  old  friend,  when  the 
telephone  -  bell  rang.  It  was  his  business  manager, 
Benjamin  Roeder,  who  said: 

285 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

"I  have  just  had  a  telephone  message  from  Charles 
Frohman.     He  wants  to  see  you." 

When  Belasco  told  Roeder  that  he  was  just  in  the  act 
of  writing  to  Frohman  to  tell  him  that  he  wanted  to 
see  him,  both  men  were  amazed  at  the  coincidence. 

That  night,  when  the  few  friends  who  gathered  each 
evening  at  Frohman 's  bedside  had  gone,  Belasco  entered 
the  sick-room  at  the  Knickerbocker.  Frohman  was  so 
weak  that  he  could  hardly  raise  his  hand.  Belasco 
went  to  him,  took  his  right  hand  in  both  of  his,  and 
the  old  comrades  put  together  again  the  thread  of  their 
friendship  just  where  it  had  been  broken  twelve  years 
before. 

They  talked  over  the  old  days.  Frohman,  whose 
mind  was  always  on  the  theater,  suddenly  said: 

"Let's  do  a  play  together,  David." 

''All  right,"  said  Belasco. 

"You  name  the  play.  I  will  get  the  cast,  and  we  will 
rehearse  it  together,"  added  Frohman. 

Out  of  this  reconciliation  came  the  magnificent  revival 
of  "A  Celebrated  Case,"  by  D'Ennery  and  Cormon. 
The  cast  included  Nat  Goodwin,  Otis  Skinner,  Ann  Mur- 
dock,  Helen  Ware,  Florence  Reed,  and  Robert  Warwick. 
On  Frohman 's  recovery  he  undertook  the  rehearsals. 
Belasco  came  in  at  the  end,  but  he  had  little  to  do. 

Frohman  and  Belasco  not  only  resumed  their  joint 
production  of  plays,  but  they  resumed  part  of  their  old 
life  together.  Now  began  again  their  favorite  diet  of 
pumpkin  and  meringue  pie  and  tea  after  the  day's  work 
was  done.  Night  after  night  they  met  after  the  theater, 
just  as  they  had  done  in  the  old  Madison  Square  days 
when  they  went  to  O'Neil's,  on  Sixth  Avenue,  for  their 
frugal   repast,    dreaming   and   planning   their   futures. 

286 


COPYRIGHT     BY     UNDERWOOD     &     UNDERWOOD 


CHARLES  F  ROHM  AN  and  DAVID  BE  LA  SCO 

A  photograph  taken  in  Boston  April  j,  jp/^,  just  after  the  two 
had   renezved   their   partnerships    ending   a   separation   of  twenty 

years. 


A    GALAXY    OF    STARS 

Now  each  man  had  become  a  great  personage.  Froh- 
man  was  the  amusement  dictator  of  two  worlds; 
Belasco,  the  acknowledged  stage  wizard  of  his  time. 

After  a  week  in  Boston  the  all-star  cast  in  **A  Cele- 
brated Case"  opened  at  the  Empire  Theater  in  New 
York.  History  repeated  itself  Frohman  and  Belasco 
sat  in  the  same  place  in  the  wings  where  they  sat  twenty- 
two  years  before  at  the  launching  of  "The  Girl  I  Left 
Behind  Me,"  which  dedicated  the  Empire.  Now,  as 
then,  there  were  tumultuous  calls  for  the  producers. 
Again  David  tried  to  induce  Charles  to  go  out,  but  he 
said : 

*'No,  you  go,  David,  and  speak  for  me.     Stand  wher^^ 
you  did  twenty- two  years  ago." 

In  191 5,  as  in  1893,  Belasco  went  out  and  spoke  Froh- 
man's  thanks  and  his  own. 

The  revival  of  ''A  Celebrated  Case"  not  only  brought 
Frohman  and  Belasco  together,  but  led  to  an  agreement 
between  them  to  do  a  production  together  every  year. 

There  was  a  tragic  hint  of  the  fate  which  was  shaping 
Charles  Frohman's  end  in  his  last  production  on  any 
stage.  It  was  a  war  play  called  ''The  Hyphen,"  by 
Justus  Miles  Forman,  the  noveHst.  The  scenes  were 
laid  in  Pennsylvania,  and  the  sto'ry  dealt  with  the 
various  attempts  to  unsettle  the  loyalty  of  German- 
Americans  through  secret  agencies.  The  whole  problem 
of  the  hyphenated  citizen,  which  had  complicated  the 
American  position  in  the  great  war,  was  set  forth. 

Even  in  his  unconscious  stage  farewell,  Charles  was 
the  pioneer,  because  the  acceptance  of  ''The  Hyphen" 
and  the  prompt  organization  of  the  company  estab- 
lished a  new  record  in  play -producing.     Up  to  a  certain 

287 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Saturday  morning  Charles  Frohman  had  never  heard 
of  the  play.  That  afternoon  the  manuscript  was  put 
into  his  hands  and  he  read  it.  A  messenger  was  sent 
off  post-haste  to  find  the  author.  In  the  mean  time, 
Frohman  engaged  W.  H.  Thompson,  Gail  Kane,  and  a 
notable  group  of  players  for  the  cast,  and  gave  orders  for 
the  construction  of  the  scenery.  Late  that  afternoon 
Mr.  Forman  called  on  Charles,  whom  he  had  never 
met.  Without  any  further  ado  the  manager  said  to 
the  playwright-author: 

* '  I  am  going  to  produce  your  play.  We  have  nothing 
to  discuss.  A  manager  often  discusses  at  great  length 
the  play  that  he  does  not  intend  to  produce.  Therefore 
all  that  I  have  to  tell  you  is  that  your  play  is  accepted. 
I  have  already  engaged  the  chief  actors  needed,  and  the 
scenery  was  ordered  two  hours  ago.  I  am  glad  to  pro- 
duce a  play  on  this  timely  subject,  but  I  am  especially 
glad  that  it  is  an  American  who  wrote  it." 

Charles  was  greatly  interested  in  "The  Hyphen." 
It  was  American  to  the  core;  it  flouted  treachery  to  the 
country  of  adoption;  it  appealed  to  his  big  sense  of 
patriotism.  He  felt,  with  all  the  large  enthusiasm  of 
his  nature,  that  he  was  doing  a  distinct  national  service 
in  producing  the  piece.  He  personally  supervised  every 
rehearsal.  He  talked  glowingly  to  his  friends  about  it. 
At  fifty-five  he  displayed  the  same  bubbling  optimism 
with  regard  to  it  that  he  had  shown  about  his  first  inde- 
pendent venture. 

Now  began  the  last  of  the  chain  of  dramatic  events 
which  ended  in  death.  As  soon  as  ''The  Hyphen"  was 
announced,  Frohman  began  to  get  threatening  letters 
warning  him  that  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  produce  so 
sensational  a  play  in  the  midst  of  such  an  acute  inter- 


A    GALAXY    OF    STARS 

national  situation.  Pro-Germans  of  incendiary  tend- 
ency especially  resented  it.  To  all  these  intimations 
Frohman  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled. 
It  made  him  all  the  more  deter miried. 

''The  Hyphen"  was  produced  April  19th  at  the 
Knickerbocker  Theater  before  a  hostile  audience.  Un- 
patriotic pro-Germans  had  packed  the  theater.  During 
the  progress  of  the  play  the  dynamite  explosions  in  the 
Broadway  subway  construction  outside  were  misinter- 
preted for  bombs,  and  there  was  suppressed  excitement 
throughout  the  whole  performance. 

The  play  was  a  failure.  Yet  Frohman's  confidence 
in  it  was  unimpaired.  He  went  to  see  it  nearly  every 
night  of  its  short  life  in  New  York.  He  even  sent  it  to 
Boston  for  a  second  verdict,  but  Boston  agreed  with 
New  York.  Like  every  production  that  bore  the 
Charles  Frohman  stamp,  he  gave  it  every  chance. 
Reluctantly  he  ordered  up  the  notice  to  close. 

Frohman  became  greatly  attached  to  Forman.  With 
his  usual  generosity  he  invited  the  author  to  accompany 
him  on  his  approaching  trip  to  England. 

"I  want  you  to  come  with  me  and  meet  Barrie  and 
know  some  of  my  other  English  friends,"  Charles  said, 
little  dreaming  that  the  invitation  to  a  holiday  was  the 
beckoning  hand  of  death  to  both. 


XIV 

STAR-MAKING    AND    AUDIENCES 

jr^URING  all  these  busy  years  Frohman  had  reigned 
I  t  supreme  as  king  of  star-makers.  Under  his  per- 
suasive sponsorship  more  men  and  women  rose  to 
stellar  eminence  than  with  all  his  fellow-managers  com- 
bined. It  was  the  very  instinct  of  his  life  to  develop 
talent,  and  it  gave  him  an  extraordinary  satisfaction  to 
see  the  artist  emerge  from  the  background  into  fame. 

His  attitude  in  the  matter  of  star-making  was  never 
better  expressed  than  in  one  of  his  many  playful  moods 
with  the  pencil.  Like  Caruso,  he  was  a  caricaturist. 
Few  things  gave  him  more  delight  than  to  make  a  hasty 
sketch  of  one  of  his  friends  on  any  scrap  of  paper  that 
lay  near  at  hand.  He  usually  made  these  sketches  just 
as  he  wrote  most  of  his  personal  letters,  with  a  heavy 
blue  pencil. 

On  one  occasion  he  was  talking  with  Pauline  Chase 
about  making  stars.  A  smile  suddenly  burst  over  his 
face;  he  seized  pencil  and  paper  and  made  a  sketch  of 
himself  walking  along  at  night  and  pointing  to  the 
moon  with  his  stick.  Under  the  picture  he  wrote,  as 
if  addressing  the  moon: 

Watch  out,  or  Fll  make  a  star  out  of  you. 

Once  he  said  to  Billie  Burke,  in  discussing  this  familiar 
Star  subject: 

290 


^^^ 


STAR-MAKING    AND   AUDIENCES 

**A  star  has  a  unique  value  in  a  play.  It  concentrates 
interest.  In  some  respects  a  play  is  like  a  dinner.  To 
be  a  success,  no  matter  how  splendidly  served,  the 
menu  should  always  have  one  unique  and  striking  dish 
that,  despite'  its  elaborate  gastronomic  surroundings, 
must  long  be  remembered.  This  is  one  reason  why  you 
need  a  star  in  a  play." 

Despite  the  fact,  as  the  case  of  Ann  Murdock  shows, 
that  Charles  could  literally  lift  a  girl  from  the  ranks 
almost  overnight,  he  generally  regarded  the  approach 
to  stardom  as  a  difficult  and  hard-won  path.  Just  be- 
fore the  great  European  war,  he  made  this  comment 
to  a  well-known  English  journalist,  who  asked  him  how 
he  made  stars: 

"Each  of  my  stars  has  earned  his  or  her  position 
through  honest  advancement.  If  the  President  of  the 
United  States  wants  to  reward  a  soldier  he  says  to  him, 
'I  will  make  you  a  general.'  By  the  same  process  I 
say  to  an  actor,  *I  will  make  you  a  star.' 

"All  the  stars  under  my  management  owe  their 
eminence  to  their  own  ability  and  industry,  and  also  to 
the  fact  that  the  American  is  an  individual-loving  pub- 
lic. In  America  we  regard  the  workman  first  and  the 
work  second.  Our  imaginations  are  fired  not  nearly 
so  much  by  great  deeds  as  by  great  doers.  There  are 
stars  in  every  walk  of  American  life.  It  has  always  been 
so  with  democracies.  Cassar,  Cicero,  and  the  rest  were 
public  stars  when  Rome  was  at  her  best,  just  as  in  our 
day  Roosevelt  and  others  shine. 

"Far  from  fostering  it,  the  star  system  as  such  has 
simply  meant  for  me  that  when  one  of  my  stars  finishes 
with  a  play,  that  play  goes  permanently  on  the  shelf, 
no  one  every  hoping  to  muster  together  an  audience 

291 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

.or  it  without  the  original  actor  or  actress  in  the  star 
part. 

"Vital  acting  in  plays  of  consequence  is  the  founda- 
tion of  theatrical  success.  You  have  only  to  enumerate 
the  plays  to  realize  the  drain  even  one  management  can 
make  upon  what  is,  after  all,  a  limited  supply  of  ca- 
pable leading  actors.  This  is  because  the  American  stage 
is  short  of  leaders.  There  is  a  world  of  actors,  but  too 
few  leading  actors." 

''What  do  you  mean  by  leading  actor?"  he  was  asked. 

''I  mean  that  if  in  casting  a  play  you  can  find  an 
actor  who  looks  the  part  you  have  in  mind  for  him,  be 
thankful ;  if  you  can  find  an  actor  who  can  act  the  part, 
be  very  thankful;  and  if  you  can  find  an  actor  who  can 
look  and  act  the  part,  get  down  on  your  knees  and  thank 
Godr 

Frohman  had  a  very  definite  idea  about  star  material. 
He  was  once  talking  with  a  well-known  American  pub- 
lisher who  mentioned  that  a  certain  very  rich  woman 
had  announced  her  determination  to  go  on  the  stage. 
The  manager  made  one  of  his  quick  and  impatient 
gestures,  and  said: 

''She  will  never  do." 

"Why?"  asked  his  friend. 

"Because,"  replied  Frohman,  "in  all  my  experience 
with  the  making  of  stars  I  have  seldom  known  of  a 
very  rich  girl  who  made  a  finished  success  on  the  stage. 
The  reason  is  that  the  daughters  of  the  rich  are  taught 
to  repress  their  emotions.  In  other  words,  they  don't 
seem  to  be  able  to  let  go  their  feelings.  Give  me  the 
common  clay,  the  kind  that  has  suffered  and  even 
hungered.     It  makes  the  best  star  material." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Frohman  liked  to  "make" 

292 


STAR-MAKING    AND    AUDIENCES 

careers.  He  wanted  to  see  people  develop  under  his 
direction.  To  indulge  in  this  diversion  was  often  a  very 
costly  thing,  as  this  incident  shows: 

Chauncey  Olcott,  who  had  been  associated  with  him 
in  his  minstrel  days,  and  become  one  of  the  most  profit- 
able stars  in  the  country,  once  sent  a  message  to  Froh- 
man  saying  that  he  would  like  to  come  under  his  manage- 
ment.    To  the  intermediary  Olcott  said: 

''Tell  Mr.  Frohman  that  I  make  one  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year.  He  can  name  his  own  percentage 
of  this  income." 

Frohman  sent  back  this  message: 

*'I  greatly  appreciate  the  offer,  but  I  don't  care  to 
manage  Olcott.     He  is  made.     I  like  to  make  stars." 

One  reason  that  lay  behind  Frohman 's  success  as 
star-maker  was  the  fact  that  he  wove  a  great  deal  of 
himself  into  the  character  of  the  stars.  In  other  words, 
the  personal  element  counted  a  great  deal.  When  some- 
body once  remonstrated  with  him  about  giving  up  so 
much  of  his  valuable  time  to  what  seemed  to  be  incon- 
sequential talks  with  his  women  stars,  he  said: 

"  It  is  not  a  waste  of  time.  I  have  often  helped  those 
young  women  to  take  a  brighter  view  of  things,  and  it 
makes  me  feel  that  I  am  not  just  their  manager,  but 
their  friend." 

Indeed,  as  Barrie  so  well  put  it,  he  regarded  his  women 
stars  as  his  children.  If  they  were  playing  in  New 
York  they  were  expected  to  call  on  him  and  talk  per- 
sonalities three  or  four  times  a  week.  On  the  road  they 
sent  him  daily  telegrams;  these  were  placed  on  his  desk 
every  morning,  and  were  dealt  with  in  person  before 
any  other  business  of  the  day.  He  had  the  names  of 
his  stars  printed  in  large  type  on  his  business  envelopes. 

293 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

These  were  so  placed  on  his  table  that  as  he  sat  and 
wrote  or  talked  he  could  see  their  names  ranked  before 
him. 

When  his  women  stars  played  in  New  York  he  always 
tried  to  visit  them  at  night  at  the  theater  before  the 
curtain  went  up.  He  always  said  of  this  that  it  was  like 
seeing  his  birds  tucked  safely  in  their  nests.  Then  he 
would  go  back  to  his  office  or  his  rooms  and  read  manu- 
scripts until  late. 

One  phase  of  Charles's  great  success  in  life  was  re- 
vealed in  this  attitude  toward  his  women  stars.  He 
succeeded  because  he  mixed  sentiment  with  business. 
He  was  not  all  sentiment  and  he  was  not  all  business, 
but  he  was  an  extraordinarily  happy  blend  of  each  of 
these  qualities,  and  they  endeared  him  to  the  people 
who  worked  for  him. 

The  attitude  of  the  great  star  toward  Frohman  is 
best  explained  perhaps  by  Sir  Henry  Irving.  Once, 
when  the  time  came  for  his  usual  American  tour,  he 
said  to  his  long-time  manager,  Bram  Stoker,  who  was 
about  to  start  for  New  York: 

"When  you  get  to  America  just  tell  Frohman — you 
need  not  bother  to  write  him — that  I  want  to  come 
under  his  management.  He  always  understands.  He  is 
always  so  fair." 

One  detail  will  illustrate  Frohman 's  feeling  about 
stars,  and  it  is  this:  He  never  wanted  them,  male  or 
female,  to  make  themselves  conspicuous  or  to  do  com- 
monplace things.  He  was  sensitive  about  what  they 
said  or  did.  For  example,  he  did  not  like  to  see  John 
Drew  walk  up  and  down  Broadway.  He  spent  a  for- 
tune sheltering  Maude  Adams  from  all  kinds  of  in- 
trusion.    With  her  especially  he  exhausted  every  re- 

294 


STAR. MAKING    AND    AUDIENCES 

source  to  keep  her  aloof  and  secluded.  He  preferred 
that  she  be  known  through  her  work  and  not  through 
her  personal  self.     It  was  so  with  himself. 

Frohman  was  one  of  the  most  generous-minded  of  men 
in  his  feeling  about  his  co-workers.  On  one  occasion 
when  he  was  rehearsing  "The  Dictator,"  William  Collier 
suggested  a  whole  new  scene.  The  next  night  Froh- 
man took  a  friend  to  see  it.  Afterward,  accompanied 
by  his  guest,  he  went  back  on  the  stage  to  congratulate 
his  star.  He  slapped  Collier  on  the  back  and,  turning 
to  his  companion,  said: 

"Wasn't  that  a  bully  scene  that  Willie  put  into  the 
play?" 

He  was  always  willing  to  admit  that  his  success  came 
from  those  who  worked  for  him.  Once  he  was  asked 
the  question : 

' '  If  you  had  your  life  to  live  over  again  would  you  be 
a  theatrical  manager?" 

Quick  as  a  flash  Frohman  replied : 

"If  I  could  be  surrounded  by  the  same  actors  and 
writers  who  have  made  me — yes.     Otherwise,  no." 

This  feeling  led  him  to  say  once: 

"I  believe  a  manager's  success  does  not  come  so  much 
from  the  public  as  from  his  players.  When  they  are 
ready  to  march  with  him  without  regard  to  results,  then 
he  has  indeed  succeeded.  This  is  my  success.  My 
ambition  frankly  centers  in  the  welfare  of  the  actor. 
The  day's  work  holds  out  to  me  no  finer  gratification 
than  to  see  intelligent,  earnest,  deserving  actors  go  into 
the  fame  and  fortune  of  being  stars." 

Nothing  could  down  his  immense  pride  in  his  stars. 
Once  he  was  making  his  annual  visit  to  England  with 
DiUingham.     At  that  time  Olga  Nethersole,  who  had 

295 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

been  playing  "Carmen,"  was  under  his  management. 
She  was  also  on  the  boat.  The  passenger-list  included 
many  other  celebrities,  among  them  Madame  Emma 
Calve,  the-opera-singer,  who  had  just  made  her  great 
success  in  the  opera  ''Carmen"  at  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House.  Naturally  there  was  some  rivalry  between 
the  two  Car  mens. 

At  the  usual  ship's  concert  both  Nether  sole  and  Calve 
inscribed  their  names  on  programs  which  were 
auctioned  off  for  the  benefit  of  the  disabled  sailors'  fund. 
Competition  was  brisk.  The  card  that  Calve  signed 
fetched  nine  hundred  dollars.  When  Nethersole's  pro- 
gram was  put  up  Frohman  led  the  bidding  and  drove 
it  up  to  a  thousand  dollars,  which  he  paid  himself.  It 
was  all  the  money  he  had  with  him.  Dillingham  remon- 
strated for  what  seemed  a  foolish  extravagance. 

"I  wanted  my  star  to  get  the  best  of  it,  and  she 
did,"  was  the  reply. 

Frohman,  as  is  well  known,  would  never  make  a 
contract  with  his  stars.  When  some  one  urged  him  to 
make  written  agreements,  he  said: 

"No,  I  won't  do  it.  I  want  them  to  be  in  a  position 
so  that  if  they  ever  become  dissatisfied  they  know  they 
are  free  to  leave  me." 

Like  all  his  other  stars,  William  Collier  had  no  con- 
tract with  Charles,  merely  a  verbal  understanding  ex- 
tending over  a  period  of  years.  After  this  agreement 
expired  and  another  year  and  a  half  had  gone  by.  Collier 
one  day  asked  Frohman  if  he  realized  that  their  original 
agreement  had  run  out.  Frohman  looked  up  with  a 
start  and  said: 

"Is  that  so?    Well,  it's  all  right,  Willie,  you  know." 

"Of  course,"  said  Collier,  and  that  ended  it. 

296 


STAR-MAKING    AND    AUDIENCES 

The  next  Saturday  when  Collier  got  his  pay-envelope 
he  found  inside  a  very  charming  letter  from  Frohman, 
which  said: 

I'm  sorry  that  I  overlooked  the  expiration  of 
our  agreement.  I  hope  that  you  will  find  a  little 
increase  in  your  salary  satisfactory. 

There  was  an  advance  of  one  hundred  dollars  a  week. 

Frohman  literally  loved  the  word  ''star,"  and  he  de- 
lighted in  the  so-called  "all-star  casts."  He  had  great 
respect  for  the  big  names  of  the  profession ;  for  those  who 
had  achieved  success.    He  liked  to  do  business  with  them. 

In  speaking  about  "all-star  casts,"  he  once  said  to 
his  brother: 

"I  have  to  look  after  so  many  enterprises  that  I  have 
no  time  to  conduct  a  theatrical  kindergarten  in  developing 
actors  or  playwrights  save  where  the  play  of  the  un- 
known author  or  the  exceptional  talents  of  the  unknown 
actor  or  actress  appeal  to  me  strongly.  There  is  an 
element  of  safety  in  considering  work  by  experts,  be- 
cause the  theaters  I  represent  need  quick  results." 

In  reply  to  the  oft-repeated  question  as  to  why  he 
took  his  American  stars  to  London  when  they  could 
play  to  larger  audiences  and  make  more  money  at 
home,  he  said: 

"In  the  first  place,  such  exchanges  constitute  the 
finest  medium  for  the  development  of  actress  or  actor 
and  the  liberalizing  of  the  public.  Face  to  face  with 
an  English  audience  the  American  actress  finds  herself 
confronted  by  new  tastes,  new  appreciations,  new  de- 
mands. She  must  meet  them  all  or  fail.  What  does 
this  result  in?  Versatility,  flexibility,  and,  in  the  end, 
a  firmer  and  more  comprehensive  hold  upon  her  art." 
20  297 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

When  Frohman  was  asked  to  define  success  in  theatri- 
cal management  he  made  this  answer: 

''The  terms  of  success  in  the  theater  seem  to  me  to 
be  the  co-operating  abilities  of  playwright  and  actor 
with  the  principal  burden  on  the  actor.  In  other  words, 
the  play  is  not  altogether  'the  thing.'  The  right  player 
in  the  right  play  is  the  thing." 

The  shaping  of  William  Gillette's  career  is  a  good 
example  of  Frohman 's  definition  of  a  successful  theatri- 
cal manager,  whose  best  skill  and  talents  are  employed 
largely  in  the  matter  of  manipulating  a  hard-minded 
person  to  mutual  advantage. 

The  relationship  between  stars  and  audiences  is  of 
necessity  a  very  close  one.  The  Frohman  philosophy, 
however,  was  not  the  generally  accepted  theory  that 
audiences  make  stars. 

On  one  of  those  very  rare  occasions  in  his  life  when 
he  wrote  for  publication,  he  made  the  following  illuminat- 
ing statement: 

No  star  or  manager  should  Jed  grateful  to  any 
audience  for  the  success  of  a  play  in  which  he 
has  figured.  A  play  succeeds  because  it  is  a 
living,  vital  thing — and  that  is  why  it  has  got 
upon  the  stage  at  all.  There  is  life  in  it  and  it 
does  not,  and  will  not,  die.  It  keeps  itself  alive 
until  the  opportunity  conies  along.  Often  a  kind 
of  instinct  makes  the  opportunity. 

It  is  instinct  also  that  prompts  an  audience 
to  applaud  when  it  is  pleased,  laugh  when  it  is 
amused,  weep  when  it  is  moved,  hiss  when  it  is 
dissatisfied.  No  actor  should  feel  indebted  to  an 
audience  for  the  recognition  of  good  work,  be- 
298 


STAR-MAKING   AND   AUDIENCES 

cause  that  same  audience  that  appears  to  be  so 
friendly y  at  another  time,  when  one  character  or 
play  does  not  please  it,  will  resent  both  actor  and 
play.  This  is  as  it  should  be.  The  loyalty  of 
English  audiences  to  their  old  favorites  is  fine, 
but  it  is  bad  for  the  old  favorites.  It  is  stagnating. 
The  various  expressions  of  approval  and  dis- 
approval that  come  from  the  spectators  at  a  play 
are  involuntary  on  the  part  of  the  spectators. 
They  are  hypnotized  by  the  play  and  the  acting. 
Who  ever,  on  coming  out  of  the  theater  after  seeing 
a  play  that  has  pleased  him,  has  felt  a  sense  of 
happiness  that  his  pleasure  had  also  pleased  the 
actor,  or  the  author  of  the  play,  or  the  manage- 
ment of  the  production?  Loyalty,  generosity, 
and  encouragement,  as  applied  to  audiences,  are 
so  many  empty  words.  Play-goers  who  apply 
them  to  themselves  cheat  themselves.  Miss  Maude 
Adams  is  the  only  stage  personage  within  my  ex- 
perience who  has  a  distinct  public  following, 
loyal  and  encouraging  to  her  in  whatever  she  does. 

Audiences  interested  Frohman  immensely.  He  liked 
to  be  a  part  of  them.  He  had  a  perfectly  definite  reason 
for  sitting  in  the  last  row  of  the  gallery  on  the  first 
nights  of  his  productions,  which  he  once  explained  as 
follows : 

''The  best  index  to  the  probable  career  of  any  play 
is  the  back  of  the  head  of  an  auditor  who  does  not 
know  that  he  is  being  watched.  The  play-goer  in  an 
orchestra  stall  is  always  half- conscious  that  what  he 
says  or  does  may  be  observed.  But  the  gallery  gods  and 
goddesses  have  never  thought  of  anything  except  what 

299 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

is  happening  on  the  stage.  They  may  yield  the  time 
before  the  rise  of  the  curtain  to  watching  the  audience 
entering  the  theater,  but  once  the  Hghts  are  up  and  the 
stage  is  revealed  they  have  no  eyes  or  thoughts  for 
anything  except  the  life  unfolded  by  the  actors.  These 
people  in  the  upper  part  of  the  theater  represent  the 
masses.  They  are  worth  watching,  for  they  are  the 
people  who  make  stage  successes." 

Frohman  had  his  own  theories  about  audiences,  too. 
Concerning  them  he  declared: 

"An  American  at  the  theater  feels  first  and  thinks 
afterward.  A  European  at  a  play  thinks  first  and  feels 
afterward.  In  conversation  a  German  discusses  things 
sitting  down;  a  Frenchman  talks  standing  up.  But 
the  American  discusses  things  walking  about.  There- 
fore each  must  have  his  play  built  accordingly." 

Once  Frohman  made  this  discriminating  difference 
between  English  and  American  audiences: 

"In  England  the  pit  and  the  gallery  of  the  audience 
come  to  the  theater,  turn  in  their  hard-earned  shillings, 
and  demand  much.  Failing  to  get  what  they  expect, 
the  theater  is  filled  with  boos  and  cat-calls  at  the  end 
of  the  play.  This  does  not  mean  that  the  play  has 
failed.  It  more  nearly  means  that  the  less  a  man 
pays  to  get  into  a  theater  the  more  he  demands  of  the 
play. 

"An  American  audience  is  different,  because  it  has  a 
fine  sense  of  humor.  When  an  American  pays  his 
money  through  the  box-office  window  he  feels  that  it 
is  gone  forever.  Anything  he  receives  after  that— the 
lights,  the  pictures  on  the  walls,  the  music  of  the  or- 
chestra, the  sight  of  a  few  or  many  smiling  faces — is  so 
much  to  the  good.     So  keen  is  the  American  play-goer's 

300 


STAR-MAKING    AND    AUDIENCES 

sense  of  humor  that  often  when  a  play  is  wretchedly 
bad  it  comes  to  the  rescue,  and  the  applause  is  terrifically 
loud.  This  does  not  mean  that  the  play  has  succeeded. 
It  means  rather  that  the  play  will  die,  a  victim  of  the 
deadliest  of  all  possible  criticisms — ridicule." 

Nor  was  Frohman  often  deceived  about  a  first-night 
verdict.  He  always  said,  "Wait  for  the  box-office 
statement  on  the  second  night." 

One  of  his  characteristic  epigrammatic  statements 
about  the  failure  of  plays  was  this: 

''In  America  the  question  with  a  failure  is,  'How  soon 
can  we  get  it  off  the  stage?'  In  London  they  say,  'How 
long  will  the  play  run  even  though  it  is  a  failure?'" 

Indeed,  Frohman' s  whole  attitude  about  openings  was 
characteristic  of  his  deep  and  generous  philosophy  about 
life.     He  summed  up  his  whole  creed  as  follows : 

"A  producer  of  plays,  assuming  that  he  is  a  m.an  of 
experience,  never  feels  comfortable  after  a  great  recep- 
tion has  been  given  his  play  on  a  first  night.  He  knows 
that  the  reception  in  the  theater  does  not  always  corre- 
spond to  the  feelings  of  future  audiences.  Every  think- 
ing manager  knows  that  his  play,  in  order  to  succeed, 
must  send  its  audience  away  possessed  of  some  distinct 
feeling.  A  successful  play  is  a  play  that  reflects,  what- 
ever the  feeling  it  reflects. 

"The  great  successes  of  the  stage  are  plays  that  are 
played  outside  of  the  theater:  over  the  breakfast-table; 
in  a  man's  office;  to  his  business  associates;  in  a  club, 
as  one  member  tells  the  thrilling  story  of  the  previous 
night's  experience  to  another.  Great  successes  upon  the 
stage  are  plays  of  such  a  sort  that  one  audience  can 
play  them  over  to  another  prospective  audience,  and 
so  make  an  endless  chain  of  attendance  at  the  theater. 

301 


(/ 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

"I  have  never  in  all  my  experience  felt  a  success  on 
the  opening  night.     I  have  only  felt  my  failures. 

**I  invariably  leave  the  theater  after  a  first-night 
performance  knowing  full  well  that  neither  my  friends 
nor  I  know  anything  at  all  as  to  the  ultimate  fortune 
of  the  play  we  have  seen." 

It  is  a  matter  of  record  that  Frohman  always  viewed 
his  first  nights  with  great  nervousness.  Although  he  at- 
tached but  little  importance,  save  on  very  rare  occasions, 
to  tumultuous  applause  on  first  nights,  he  was  some- 
times deceived  by  the  reception  that  was  given  his 
productions. 

He  never  tired  of  telling  of  one  experience.  He  had 
left  the  theater  on  the  first  night,  as  he  expressed  it, 
"with  the  other  mourners."  He  returned  to  his  office 
immediately  to  cast  a  new  play  for  the  company.  Yet 
he  lived  to  see  this  play  run  successfully  for  a  whole 
season.     This  led  him  to  say: 

**  There's  nothing  more  deluding  to  the  player  and 
the  manager  than  enthusiastic  applause.  The  fine,  in- 
spired work  of  a  star  actor  often  makes  an  audience 
enthusiastic  to  such  a  boisterous  extent  that  one  forgets 
that  it  is  an  individual  and  not  the  play  that  has  suc- 
ceeded." 

Here,  as  elsewhere  in  the  Frohman  outlook  on  life 
and  work,  one  finds  clear-headed  logic  and  reason  behind 
the  bubbling  optimism. 


XV 

PLAYS   AND   PLAYERS 

^^NE  day  not  long  before  he  sailed  on  the  voyage 
f  J  that  was  to  take  him  to  his  death,  Charles  was 
talking  with  a  celebrated  English  playwright  in 
his  office  at  the  Empire  Theater.  The  conversation  sud- 
denly turned  to  a  discussion  of  life  achievement. 

"What  do  you  consider  the  biggest  thing  that  you 
have  done?"  asked  the  visitor. 

Frohman  rose  and  pointed  with  his  stick  at  the  rows 
of  book-shelves  about  him  that  held  the  bound  copies 
of  the  plays  he  had  produced.  Then  he  said  with  a 
smile : 

"Tha^is  what  I  have  done.  Don't  you  think  it  is 
a  pretty  good  life's  work?" 

He  was  not  overstepping  the  mark  when  he  pointed 
with  pride  at  that  army  of  plays.  This  list  is  the  great- 
est monument,  perhaps,  to  his  boundless  ambition  and 
energy,  for  it  contains  the  four  hundred  original  pro- 
ductions he  made  in  America,  besides  the  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  plays  he  put  on  in  London.  That 
Charles  should  have  produced  so  many  plays  is  not  sur- 
prising. He  adored  the  theater;  it  was  his  very  being. 
To  him,  in  truth,  all  the  world  was  a  stage. 

Everything  that  he  saw  as  he  walked  the  streets  or 
rode  in  a  cab  or  viewed  from  a  railway  train  he  re- 
visualized  and  considered  in  the  terms  of  the  play- 

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CHARLES    FROHMAN 

house.  If  he  saw  an  impressive  bit  of  scenery  he  would 
say,  "Wouldn't  that  make  a  fine  background?"  If  he 
heard  certain  murmurs  in  the  country  or  the  tumult  of 
a  crowd  on  the  highway,  he  instinctively  said,  ' '  How  fine 
it  would  be  to  reproduce  that  sound." 

He  only  read  books  with  a  view  of  their  adaptability 
to  plays.  Where  other  men  found  diversion  and  recre- 
ation in  golfing,  motoring,  or  walking,  Charles  sought 
entertainment  in  reading  manuscripts.  He  was  never 
without  a  play;  when  he  traveled  he  carried  dozens. 

In  the  matter  of  plays  Frohman  had  what  was  little 
less  than  a  contempt  for  the  avowedly  academic.  He 
refused  to  be  drawn  into  discussions  of  the  so-called 
"high  brow"  drama.  When  some  one  asked  him  to 
name  the  greatest  of  English  dramatists  he  repHed, 
quick  as  a  flash: 

"The  one  who  writes  the  last  great  play." 
"Whom  do  you  consider  the  greatest  American  drama- 
tist?" was  the  question  once  put  to  him.     His  smiHng 
answer  was: 

"The  one  whose  play  the  greatest  number  of  good 
Americans  go  to  see." 
/  ^  On  this  same  occasion  he  was  asked,  "What  seat  in 
/    the  theater  do  you  consider  the  best  to  view  a  drama  or 
(     a  musical  comedy  from?" 
^^ — "The  paid  one,"  he  retorted. 

Back  in  Charles's  mind  was  a  definite  and  well- 
ordered  policy  about  plays.  His  first  production  on  any 
stage  was  a  melodrama,  and,  though  in  later  years  he 
ran  the  whole  range  from  grave  to  gay,  he  was  always 
true  to  his  first  love.  This  is  one  reason  why  Sardou's 
"Diplomacy"  was,  in  many  respects,  his  ideal  of  a 
play.     It  has  thrills,  suspense,  love  interests,  and  emo- 

304 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

tion.  He  revived  it  again  and  again,  and  it  never  failed 
to  give  him  a  certain  pleasure. 

Once  in  London  Frohman  unbosomed  himself  about 
play  requirements,  and  this  is  what  he  said: 

"I  start  out  by  asking  certain  requirements  of  every 
piece.  If  it  be  a  drama,  it  must  have  healthfulness  and 
comedy  as  well  as  seriousness.  We  are  a  young  people, 
but  only  in  the  sense  of  healthy-mindedness.  There  is 
no  real  taste  among  us  for  the  erotic  or  the  decadent. 
It  is  foreign  to  us  because,  as  a  people,  we  have  not 
felt  the  corroding  touch  of  decadence.  Nor  is  life  here 
all  drab.  Hence  I  expect  lights  as  well  as  shadows  in 
every  play  I  accept. 

"Naturally,  I  am  also  influenced  by  the  fitness  of  the 
chief  parts  for  my  chief  stars,  but  I  often  purchase  the 
manuscript  at  once  on  learning  its  central  idea.  I 
commissioned  Clyde  Fitch  and  Cosmo  Gordon-Lennox 
to  go  to  work  on  "Her  Sister"  after  half  an  hour's  ac- 
count of  the  main  idea.  Ethel  Barry more's  work  in 
that  play  is  the  best  instance  that  I  can  give  of  the 
artistic  growth  of  that  actress.  The  particular  skill  she 
had  obtained — and  this  is  the  test  of  an  actress  worth 
remembering — is  the  art  of  acting  scenes  essentially 
melodramatic  in  an  unmelodramatic  manner.  After 
all,  what  is  melodrama?  Life  itself  is  melodrama,  and 
life  put  upon  the  stage  only  seems  untrue  when  it  is 
acted  melodramatically — that  is,  unnaturally." 

The  foremost  quality  that  Frohman  sought  in  his 
plays  was  human  interest.  His  appraisal  of  a  dramatic 
product  was  often  influenced  by  his  love  for  a  single 
character  or  for  certain  sentimental  or  emotional 
speeches.  He  would  almost  invariably  discuss  these 
plays  with  his  intimates     Often  he  would  act  out  the 

305 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

whole  piece  in  a  vivid  and  graphic  manner  and  enlarge 
upon  the  situations  that  appealed  to  his  special  in- 
terest. 

Plays  thus  described  by  him  were  found  to  be  extreme- 
ly entertaining  and  diverting  to  his  friends,  but  when 
presented  on  the  stage  to  a  dispassionate  audience  they 
did  not  always  fare  so  well.  A  notable  example  was 
"The  Hyphen."  The  big,  patriotic  speech  of  the  old 
German-American  in  the  third  act  made  an  immense 
impression  on  Frohman  when  he  read  the  play.  It  led 
him  to  produce  the  piece  in  record  time.  He  recited 
it  to  every  caller;  he  almost  lost  sight  of  the  rest  of  the 
play  in  his  admiration  for  the  central  effort.  But  the 
audience  and  the  critics  only  saw  this  speech  as  part 
of  a  long  play. 

What  Charles  lacked  in  his  study  of  plays  in  manu- 
script was  the  analytical  quality.  He  could  feel  that 
certain  scenes  and  speeches  would  have  an  emotional 
appeal,  but  he  could  not  probe  down  beneath  the  sur- 
face for  the  why  and  the  wherefore.  For  analysis,  as 
for  details,  he  had  scant  time.  He  accepted  plays  ] 
mainly  for  their  general  effect.  ' 

He  was  very  susceptible  to  any  charm  that  a  play 
held  out.  If  he  found  the  characters  sympathetic,  at- 
tractive, and  lovable,  that  would  outweigh  any  objec- 
tions made  on  technical  grounds.  When  once  he  deter-  , 
mined  to  produce  a  play,  only  a  miracle  could  prevent  'i 
him.  The  more  his  associates  argued  to  the  contrary, 
the  more  dogged  he  became.  He  had  superb  confidence 
in  his  judgment ;  yet  he  invariably  accepted  failure  with 
serenity  and  good  spirit.  He  always  assumed  the  re- 
sponsibility. He  listened  sometimes  to  suggestions,  but 
his  views  were  seldom  colored  by  them, 

306 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

His  association  with  men  like  J.  M.  Barrie,  Haddon 
Chambers,  Paul  Potter,  William  Gillette,  Arthur  Wing 
Pinero,  and  Augustus  Thomas  gave  him  a  loftier  insight 
into  the  workings  of  the  drama.  He  was  quick  to  ab- 
sorb ideas,  and  he  had  a  strong  and  retentive  memory 
for  details. 

Frohman  loved  to  present  farce.  He  enjoyed  this 
type  of  play  himself  because  it  appealed  to  his  immense 
sense  of  humor.  He  delighted  in  rehearsing  the  many 
complications  and  entanglements  which  arise  in  such 
plays.  The  enthusiasm  with  which  French  audiences 
greeted  their  native  plays  often  misled  him.  He  felt 
that  American  theater-goers  would  be  equally  uproari- 
ous.    But  often  they  failed  him. 

The  same  thing  frequently  happened  with  English 
plays.  He  would  be  swept  off  his  feet  by  a  British  pro- 
duction; he  was  at  once  sure  that  it  would  be  a  success 
in  New  York.  But  New  York,  more  than  once,  upset 
this  belief.  The  reason  was  that  Frohman  saw  these 
plays  as  an  Englishman.  He  had  the  cosmopolitan 
point  of  view  that  the  average  play-goer  in  America 
lacked. 

This  leads  to  the  interesting  subject  of  ''locality"  in 
plays.     Frohman  once  summed  up  this  whole  question: 

"As  I  go  back  and  forth,  crossing  and  recrossing  the 
Atlantic,  the  audiences  on  both  sides  seem  more  and 
more  like  one.  Always,  of  course,  each  has  his  own 
particular  viewpoint,  according  to  the  side  of  the  Atlantic 
I  happen  to  be  on.  But  often  they  think  the  same, 
each  from  its  own  angle. 

j      ''You  bring  your  English  play  to  America.     Nobody 

I  is  at  all  disturbed  by  the  mention  of  Park  Lane  or 

Piccadilly  Circus.     If  there  is  drama  in  the  play,  if  in 

307 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

itself  it  interests  and  holds  the  audience,  nobody  pays 
any  attention  to  its  locality  or  localisms. 

*'But  an  English  audience  sitting  before  an  American 
play  hears  mention  of  West  Twenty-third  Street  or 
Washington  Square,  and  while  it  is  wondering  just 
where  and  what  these  localities  are  an  important  inci- 
dent in  the  dramatic  action  slips  by  unnoticed.  Not 
that  English  audiences  are  at  all  prejudiced  against 
American  plays.  They  take  them  in  the  same  general 
way  that  Americans  take  English  plays.  Each  public 
asks,  'What  have  you  got?'  As  soon  as  it  hears  that 
the  play  is  good  it  is  interested. 

"English  audiences,  for  example,  were  quick  to  dis- 
cover the  fun  in  'The  Dictator'  when  Mr.  Collier  acted 
it  in  London,  though  it  was  full  of  the  local  color  of 
New  York,  both  in  the  central  character  and  in  the 
subject.  Somehow  the  type  and  the  speeches  seemed 
to  have  a  sort  of  universal  humor.  I  tried  it  first  on 
Barrie.  He  marked  in  the  manuscript  the  places  that 
he  could  understand.  The  piece  never  went  better 
in  America. 

'*0n  the  other  hand,  one  reason  why  'Brewster's 
Millions'  did  not  go  well  in  London  was  because  the 
severely  logical  British  mind  took  it  all  as  a  business 
proposition.  The  problem  was  sedately  figured  out  on 
the  theory  that  the  young  man  did  not  spend  the  in- 
herited millions. 

*'If  the  locality  of  an  American  play  happens  to  be 
a  mining  village,  it  is  better  to  change  its  scenes  to  a 
similar  village  in  Australia  when  you  take  the  play  to 
London.  Then  the  audience  is  sure  to  understand. 
The  public  of  London  gave  'The  Lion  and  the  Mouse' 
an  enthusiastic  first  night,  but  it  turned  out  that  they 

308 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

had  not  comprehended  the  play.  It  was  unthinkable 
to  them  that  a  judge  should  be  disgraced  and  disbarred 
by  a  political  'ring.'" 

The  ideal  play  for  Charles  Frohman  was  always  the 
one  that  he  had  in  mind  for  a  particular  star.  His 
special  desire,  however,  was  for  strong  and  emotional 
love  as  the  dominant  force  in  the  drama.  He  felt  that 
all  humanity  was  interested  in  love,  and  he  believed  it 
established  a  congenial  point  of  contact  between  the 
stage  and  the  audience. 

Although  he  did  not  especially  aspire  to  Shakespearian 
production,  he  used  the  great  bard's  works  as  models 
for  appraising  other  plays.  * '  Shakespeare  invented  farce 
comedy,"  he  once  said,  ''and  whenever  I  consider  the 
purchase  of  such  a  thing  I  compare  its  scenes  with  the 
most  famous  of  all  farces,  'The  Taming  of  the  Shrew.' 
It  goes  without  saying  that  when  it  comes  to  the  stage 
of  the  production,  my  aim  is  to  imbue  the  performance 
with  a  spirit  akin  to  that  contained  in  Shakespeare's 
humorous  masterpiece . ' ' 

Frohman  often  "went  wrong"  on  plays.  He  merely 
accepted  these  mistakes  as  part  of  the  big  human  hazard 
and  went  on  to  something  new.  His  amazing  series  of 
errors  of  judgment  with  plays  by  Augustus  Thomas  is 
one  of  the  traditions  of  the  American  theater.  The 
reader  already  knows  how  he  refused  "Arizona"  and 
"The  Earl  of  Pawtucket,"  and  how  they  made  fortunes 
for  other  managers. 

One  of  the  most  extraordinary  of  these  Thomas  mis- 
takes was  with  "The  Witching  Hour."  It  was  about 
the  only  time  that  he  permitted  his  own  decision  to  be 
swayed  by  outside  influence,  and  it  cost  him  dearly. 

The  author  read  the  play  to  Frohman  on  a  torrid 

309 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

night  in  midsummer.  Frohman,  as  usual,  sat  cross- 
legged  on  a  divan  and  sipped  orangeade  incessantly. 

Thomas,  who  has  all  the  art  and  eloquence  of  a 
finished  actor,  read  his  work  with  magnetic  effect.  When 
he  finished  Frohman  sat  absolutely  still  for  nearly  five 
minutes.  It  seemed  hours  to  the  playwright,  who 
awaited  the  decision  with  tense  interest.  Finally  Froh- 
man said  in  a  whisper: 

"That  is  almost  too  beautiful  to  bear." 

A  pause  followed.     Then  he  said,  eagerly: 

"When  shall  we  do  it;   whom  do  you  want  for  star?" 

"I'd  like  to  have  Gillette,"  replied  Thomas. 

"You  can't  have  him,"  responded  Frohman.  "He's 
engaged  for  something  else." 

With  this  the  session  ended.  Frohman  seemed 
strangely  under  the  spell  of  the  play.  It  made  him 
silent  and  meditative. 

The  next  day  he  gave  the  manuscript  to  some  of  his 
close  associates  to  read.  They  thought  it  was  too 
psychological  for  a  concrete  dramatic  success.  To  their 
great  surprise  he  agreed  with  them. 

"The  Witching  Hour"  was  produced  by  another  man- 
ager and  it  ran  a  whole  season  in  New  York,  and  then 
duplicated  its  success  on  the  road.  This  experience 
made  Frohman  all  the  more  determined  to  keep  his  own 
counsel  and  follow  his  instincts  with  regard  to  plays 
thereafter,  and  he  did. 

Charles  regarded  play-producing  just  as  he  regarded 
life — as  a  huge  adventure.  An  amusing  thing  happened 
during  the  production  of  "The  Other  Girl,"  a  play  by 
Augustus  Thomas,  in  which  a  pugilist  has  a  prominent 
role. 

Lionel  Barrymore  was  playing  the  part  of  the  prize- 

310 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

fighter,  who  was  generally  supposed  to  be  a  stage  replica 
of  "Kid"  McCoy,  then  in  the  very  height  of  his  fistic 
powers.  In  the  piece  the  fighter  warns  his  friends  not 
to  bet  on  a  certain  fight.     The  lines,  in  substance,  were: 

"You  have  been  pretty  loyal  to  me,  but  I  am  giving 
you  a  tip  not  to  put  any  money  down  on  that  'go'  in 
October." 

One  day  Frohman  found  Barrymore  pacing  nervously 
up  and  down  in  front  of  his  office. 

"What's  the  matter,  Lionel?"  he  asked. 

"Well,"  was  the  reply,  "I  am  very  much  disturbed 
about  something.  I  made  a  promise  to  *Kid'  McCoy, 
and  I  don't  know  how  to  keep  it.  You  know  I  have  a 
line  in  the  play  in  which  the  prize-fighter  warns  his 
friends  not  to  bet  on  him  in  a  certain  fight  in  October. 
The  'Kid,'  who  has  been  at  the  play  nearly  every  night 
since  we  opened,  now  has  a  real  fight  on  for  October, 
and  he  is  afraid  it  will  give  people  the  idea  that  it  is  a 
'frame-up.'" 

"You  mean  to  say  that  you  want  me  to  change  Mr. 
Thomas's  lines?"  asked  Frohman,  seriously. 

"I  can't  ask  you  to  do  that,"  answered  Barrymore. 
"But  I  promised  the  'Kid'  to  speak  to  you  about  it, 
and  I  have  kept  my  word." 

Frohman  thought  a  moment.     Then  he  said,  gravely: 

"All  right,  Lionel,  I'll  postpone  the  date  of  the  fight 
in  the  play  until  November,  even  December,  but  not  a 
day  later." 

Frohman  was  not  without  his  sense  of  imitation.  He 
was  quick  to  follow  up  a  certain  type  or  mood  whether 
it  was  in  the  vogue  of  an  actor  or  the  character  of  a 
play.     This  story  will  illustrate: 

One  night  early  in  February,  1895,  Frohman  sat  in 

311 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

his  wonted  corner  at  Delmonico's,  then  on  Broadway 
and  Twenty-sixth  Street.  He  had  ''The  Fatal  Card," 
by  Chambers  and  Stephenson,  on  the  boards  at  Palmer's 
Theater;  he  also  had  A.  M.  Palmer's  Stock  Company 
on  the  road  in  Sydney  Grundy's  play  "The  New 
Woman."  This  naturally  gave  him  a  lively  interest  in 
Mr.  Palmer's  productions. 

Paul  Potter,  who  was  then  house  dramatist  at  Palm- 
er's, bustled  into  the  restaurant  with  the  plot  of  a  new 
novel  which  had  been  brought  to  his  attention  by  the 
news-stand  boy  at  the  Waldorf.  Frohman  listened  to 
his  recital  with  interest. 

''What  is  the  name  of  the  book?"  he  asked. 

"Trilby,"  replied  Potter. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "it  ought  to  be  called  after 
that  conjurer  chap,  Bengali,  or  whatever  his  name  is. 
However,  go  ahead.  Get  Lackaye  back  from  'The 
District  Attorney'  company  to  which  Palmer  has  lent 
him.  Engage  young  Ditrichstein  by  all  means  for  one 
of  your  Bohemians.  Call  in  Virginia  Harned  and  the 
rest  of  the  stock  company.     And  there  you  are." 

With  uncanny  precision  he  had  cast  the  leading  roles 
perfectly  and  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment. 

During  the  fortnight  of  the  incubation  of  the  play 
Potter  saw  Frohman  nightly,  for  they  were  now  fast 
friends.  Frohman  was  curiously  fascinated  by  "Ben- 
gali," as  he  insisted  upon  calling  Svengali. 

"We  do  it  next  Monday  in  Boston,"  said  Potter, 
"and  I  count  on  your  coming  to  see  it." 

Frohman  went  to  Boston  to  see  the  second  perform- 
ance. After  the  play  he  and  Potter  walked  silently 
across  the  Common  to  the  Thorndyke  Hotel.  In  his 
room  Frohman  broke  into  speech: 

312 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

''They  are  roasting  it  awfully  in  New  York,"  he  be- 
gan. "Yet  Joe  Jefferson  says  it  will  go  around  the 
world."  Then  he  added,  "They  say  you  have  cut  out 
all  the  Bohemian  stuff." 

"Nevertheless,"  replied  Potter,  "W.  A.  Brady  has 
gone  to  New  York  to-night  to  offer  Mr.  Palmer  ten 
thousand  dollars  on  account  for  the  road  rights." 

"Well,"  said  Frohman,  showing  his  hand  at  last, 
"Jefferson  and  Brady  are  right,  and  if  Palmer  will  let 
me  in  I'll  go  half  and  half,  or,  if  he  prefers,  I'll  take  it 
all." 

At  supper  after  the  first  performance  at  the  Garden 
Theater  in  New  York,  Frohman  advised  Sir  Herbert 
Tree  to  capture  the  play  for  London.  Henceforth, 
wherever  he  traveled,  "Trilby"  seemed  to  pursue  him. 

"I've  seen  your  old  'BengaH,'  "  he  wrote  Potter,  "in 
Rome,  Vienna,  BerHn,  everywhere.  It  haunts  me. 
And,  as  you  cut  out  the  good  Bohemian  stuff,  I'll  use 
it  myself  at  the  Empire." 

He  did  so  in  Clyde  Fitch's  version  of  "La  Vie  de 
Boheme,"  which  was  called  "Bohemia." 

"How  did  it  go?"  Potter  wrote  him  from  Switzerland. 

'  *  Pretty  well, ' '  replied  Frohman.  ' '  Unfortunately  we 
left  out  'Bengah.'  " 

On  more  than  one  occasion  Frohman  produced  a  play 
for  the  mere  pleasure  of  doing  it.  He  put  on  a  certain 
little  dramatic  fantasy.  It  was  foredoomed  to  failure 
and  held  the  boards  only  a  week. 

"Why  did  you  do  this  play?"  asked  William  H.  Crane. 

"Because  I  wanted  to  see  it  played,"  answered  Froh- 
man. "I  knew  it  would  not  be  successful,  but  I  simply 
had  to  do  it.  I  saw  every  performance  and  I  Hked  it 
better  every  time  I  saw  it. 

21  313 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Often  Frohman  would  make  a  contract  with  a  play- 
wright for  a  play,  and  long  before  the  first  night  he 
would  reahze  that  it  had  no  chance.  Yet  he  kept  his 
word  with  the  author,  and  it  was  always  produced. 

The  case  of  "The  Heart  of  a  Thief,"  by  the  late 
Paul  Armstrong,  is  typical.  Frohman  paid  him  an  ad- 
vance of  fifteen  hundred  dollars.  After  a  week  of  re- 
hearsals every  one  connected  with  the  play  except 
Armstrong  realized  that  it  was  impossible. 

Frohman,  however,  gave  it  an  out-of-town  opening 
and  brought  it  to  the  Hudson  Theater  in  New  York, 
where  it  ran  for  one  week.  When  he  decided  to  close 
it  he  called  the  company  together  and  said: 

''You've  done  the  best  you  could.  It's  all  my  fault. 
I  thought  it  was  a  good  play.     I  was  mistaken." 

Frohman  took  vast  pride  in  the  "clean  quality"  of 
his  plays,  as  he  often  phrased  it.  His  whole  theatrical 
career  was  a  rebuke  to  the  salacious.  He  originally 
owned  Edward  Sheldon's  dramatization  of  Suderman's 
"The  Song  of  Songs."  On  its  production  in  Philadel- 
phia it  was  assailed  by  the  press  as  immoral.  Frohman 
immediately  sold  it  to  A.  H.  Woods,  who  presented  it 
with  enormous  financial  success  in  New  York. 

He  was  scrupulous  to  the  last  degree  in  his  business 
relations  with  playwrights.  Once  a  well-known  English 
author,  who  was  in  great  financial  need,  cabled  to  his 
agent  in  America  that  he  would  sell  outright  for  two 
thousand  dollars  all  the  dramatic  rights  to  a  certain 
play  of  his  that  Frohman  and  an  associate  had  on  the 
road  at  that  time.  The  associate  thought  it  was  a  fine 
opportunity  and  personally  cabled  the  money  through 
the  agent.  Then  he  went  to  Frohman  and  said,  with 
great  satisfaction: 

3U 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

''I've  made  some  money  for  us  to-day." 

''How's  that?"  asked  Frohman. 

Then  his  associate  told  the  story  of  the  author's  pre- 
dicament and  what  he  had  done.  He  stood  waiting  for 
commendation.  Instead,  Frohman 's  face  darkened; 
he  rang  a  bell,  and  when  his  secretary  appeared  he  said : 

"Please  wire  Blank  [mentioning  the  playwright's 
name]  that  the  money  cabled  him  to-day  was  an  advance 
on  future  royalties." 

Then  he  turned  to  his  associate  and  said: 

' '  Never,  so  long  as  you  work  with  me  or  are  associated 
with  me  in  any  enterprise,  take  advantage  of  the  distress 
of  author  or  actor.  This  man's  play  was  good  enough 
for  us  to  produce;  it  is  still  good  enough  to  earn  money. 
When  it  makes  money  for  us  it  also  makes  money  for 
him." 

By  the  force  of  his  magnetic  personality  Charles 
amiably  coerced  more  than  one  unwilling  playwright 
into  submission  to  his  will.  An  experience  with  Mar- 
garet Mayo  will  illustrate. 

Miss  Mayo  returned  on  the  same  steamer  with  him 
when  he  made  his  last  trip  from  London  to  the  United 
States.  As  they  walked  up  the  gang-plank  at  Liverpool 
the  manager  told  the  author  that  he  had  a  play  he 
wished  her  to  adapt. 

"But  I  have  decided  to  adapt  no  more  plays,"  said 
Miss  Mayo. 

"Never  mind,"  replied  Frohman  "We  will  see  about 
that." 

Needless  to  say,  by  the  time  the  ship  reached  New 
York  the  play  was  in  Miss  Mayo's  trunk  and  the  genial 
tyrant  had  exacted  a  promise  for  the  adaptation. 

315 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Miss  Mayo  immediately  went  to  her  country  house 
up  the  Hudson.  For  a  week  she  reproached  herself  for 
having  fallen  a  victim  to  the  Frohman  beguilements.  In 
this  state  of  mind  she  could  do  no  work  on  the  manu- 
script. 

With  his  astonishing  intuition  Frohman  divined  that 
the  author  was  making  no  progress,  so  he  sent  her  a 
note  asking  her  to  come  to  town,  and  adding,  '*I  have 
something  to  show  you." 

Miss  Mayo  entered  the  office  at  the  Empire  deter- 
mined to  throw  herself  upon  the  managerial  mercy  and 
beg  to  be  excused  from  the  commission.  But  before 
she  could  say  a  word  Frohman  said,  cheerily: 

''I've  found  the  right  title  for  our  play." 

Then  he  rang  a  bell,  and  a  boy  appeared  holding  a 
tightly  rolled  poster  in  his  hand.  At  a  signal  he  un- 
folded it,  and  the  astonished  playwright  beheld  these 
words  in  large  red  and  white  letters : 

Charles  Frohman 

Presents 

I  DIDN'T  WANT  TO  DO  IT 

A  Farce  in  Three  Acts 

By  Margaret  Mayo 

Of  course  the  usual  thing  happened.  No  one  could 
resist  such  an  attack.  Miss  Mayo  went  back  to  the 
country  without  protest  and  she  finished  the  play.  It 
was  destined,  however,  to  be  produced  by  some  other 
hand  than  Frohman's. 

Frohman  always  sought  seclusion  when  he  wanted 
to  work  out  the  plans  for  a  production.     He  sometimes 

316 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

went  to  extreme  lengths  to  achieve  aloofness.  An  inci- 
dent related  by  Goodwin  will  illustrate  this. 

During  the  run  of  ''Nathan  Hale"  in  New  York 
Goodwin  entered  his  dressing-room  one  night,  turned 
on  the  electric  light,  and  was  amazed  to  see  Charles 
sitting  huddled  up  in  a  corner. 

''What  are  you  doing  here,  Charley?"  asked  Goodwin. 

' '  I  am  casting  a  new  play,  and  came  here  to  get  some 
inspiration.  Good  night,"  was  the  reply.  With  that 
he  walked  out. 

There  was  one  great  secret  in  Charles  Frohman's  life. 
It  is  natural  that  it  should  center  about  the  writing 
of  a  play;  it  is  natural,  too,  that  this  most  intimate  of 
incidents  in  the  career  of  the  great  manager  should  be 
told  by  his  devoted  friend  and  colleague  of  many  years, 
Paul  Potter. 

Here  it  is  as  set  down  by  Mr.  Potter: 

We  had  hired  a  rickety  cab  at  the  Place  Saint-Fran- 
gois  in  Lausanne,  and  had  driven  along  the  lake  of 
Geneva  to  Morges,  where,  sitting  on  the  terrace  of  the 
Hotel  du  Mont  Blanc,  we  were  watching  the  shore  of 
Savoy  across  the  lake,  and  the  gray  old  villages  of 
Thonon  and  Evian,  and  the  mountains,  rising  ridge  upon 
ridge,  behind  them.  And  Frohman,  being  in  lyric 
mood,  fell  to  quoting  "The  Blue  Hills  Far  Away,"  for 
Owen  Meredith's  song  was  one  of  the  few  bits  of  verse 
that  clung  in  his  memory. 

"Odd,"  said  he,  relapsing  into  prose,  "that  a  chap 
should  climb  hill  after  hill,  thinking  he  had  reached  his 
goal,  and  should  forever  find  the  blue  hills  farther  and 
farther  away." 

While  he  was  ruminating  the  clouds  lifted,  and  there, 

317 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

in  a  gap  of  the  hills,  was  the  crest  of  Mont  Blanc,  with 
its  image  of  Napoleon  lying  asleep  in  the  snow. 

I  have  seen  Frohman  in  most  of  the  critical  moments 
of  his  life,  but  I  never  saw  him  utterly  awe-stricken 
till  then. 

'*Gee,"  said  he,  at  length,  ''what  a  mountain  to 
cHmb!" 

''It  is  sixty  miles  away,"  I  ventured  to  suggest. 

"Well,"  he  remarked,  "I'll  climb  it  some  day.  As 
John  Russell  plastered  the  Rocky  Mountains  with  'The 
City  Directory,'  so  I'll  hang  a  shingle  from  the  top 
of  Mont  Blanc:  'Ambition:  a  comedy  in  four  acts  by 
Charles  Frohman.'"  And  as  we  went  home  to  Ouchy 
he  told  me  the  secret  desire  of  his  heart. 

He  wanted  to  write  a  play. 

"Isn't  it  enough  to  be  a  theatrical  manager?"  I  asked. 

"No,"  said  he,  "a  theatrical  manager  is  a  joke.  The 
public  thinks  he  spends  his  days  in  writing  checks  and 
his  nights  in  counting  the  receipts.  Why,  when  I 
wanted  to  become  a  depositor  at  the  Union  Bank  in 
London,  the  cashier  asked  me  my  profession.  'Theatri- 
cal manager,'  I  replied.  'Humph!'  said  the  cashier, 
taken  aback.  'Well,  never  mind,  Mr.  Frohman;  we'll 
put  you  down  as  'a  gentleman.'" 

"But  is  a  playwright,"  I  asked,  "more  highly  reputed 
than  a  theatrical  manager?" 

"Not  in  America,"  said  Frohman.  "Most  Americans 
think  that  the  actors  and  actresses  write  their  own  parts. 
I  was  on  the  Long  Branch  boat  the  other  day  and  met 
a  well-known  Empire  first-nighter.  'What  are  you 
going  to  give  us  next  season,  Frohman?'  he  said. 

"'I  open  with  a  little  thing  by  Sardou,'  I  replied. 

* ' '  Sardou !'  he  cried.     *  Who  in  thunder  is  Sardou  ?' 

318 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

"All  the  same,"  Frohman  continued,  '*I  mean  to  be 
a  playwright.  Didn't  Lester  Wallack  write  'Rosedale' 
and  'The  Veteran'?  Didn't  Augustin  Daly  make  splen- 
did adaptations  of  German  farces?  Doesn't  Belasco 
turn  out  first-class  dramas?  Then  why  not  I?  I  mean 
to  learn  the  game.  Don't  give  me  away,  but  watch 
my  progress  in  play-making  as  we  jog  along  through 
life." 

He  got  his  first  tip  from  Pinero.  **When  I  have 
sketched  out  a  play,"  observed  the  author  of  ''The 
Second  Mrs.  Tanqueray,"  "I  go  and  live  among  the 
characters." 

Frohman  had  no  characters  of  his  own,  but  he  held 
in  his  brain  a  fabulous  store  of  other  people's  plays. 
And  whenever  they  had  a  historical  or  a  literary  origin 
he  ran  these  origins  to  their  lair.  At  Ferney,  on  the  Lake 
of  Geneva,  he  cared  nothing  about  Voltaire ;  he  wanted 
to  see  the  place  where  the  free-thinkers  gathered  in 
A.  M.  Palmer's  production  of  "Daniel  Rochat."  At 
Geneva  he  was  not  concerned  with  Calvin,  but  with 
memories  of  a  Union  Square  melodrama,  "The  Geneva 
Cross."  At  Lyons  he  expected  the  ghosts  of  Claude 
Melnotte  and  Pauline  to  meet  him  at  the  station.  In 
Paris  he  allowed  Napoleon  to  slumber  unnoticed  in  the 
Invalides  while  he  hunted  the  Faubourg  Saint-Antoine 
for  traces  of  "The  Tale  of  Two  Cities,"  and  the  Place  de 
la  Concorde  for  the  site  of  the  guillotine  on  which  Sidney 
Carton  died,  and  the  Latin  Quarter  haunts  of  Mimi  and 
Musette^  and  the  Bal  Bullier  where  Trilby  danced,  and 
the  Concert  des  Ambassadeurs  where  Zaza  bade  her 
lover  good-by. 

Any  production  was  an  excuse  for  these  expeditions. 
Sir  Herbert  Tree    had    staged   "Colonel    Newcome"; 

319 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

we  had  ourselves  plotted  a  dramatization  of  "Penden- 
nis";  Mrs.  Fiske  had  given  "Vanity  Fair";  so  off  we 
went,  down  the  Boulevard  Saint-Germain,  searching  for 
the  place,  duly  placarded,  where  Thackeray  lunched  in 
the  days  of  the  "Paris  Sketch-book"  and  the  "Ballad 
of  Bouillabaisse." 

In  the  towns  of  Kent  we  got  on  the  trail  of  Dickens 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  Hopkinson  Smith;  in  London, 
between  Drury  Lane  and  Wardour  Street,  we  hunted  for 
the  Old  Curiosity  Shop ;  in  Yarmouth  we  discovered  the 
place  where  Peggotty's  boat-hut  might  have  lain  on  the 
sands.  With  William  Seymour,  who  knew  every  street 
from  his  study  of  "The  Rivals,"  we  listened  to  the 
abbey  bells  of  Bath.  And  when  "Romeo  and  Juliet" 
was  to  be  revived  with  Sothem  and  Marlowe,  Frohman 
even  proposed  that  we  should  visit  Verona.  He  only 
abandoned  the  idea  on  discovering  that  the  Veronese 
had  no  long-distance  telephones,  and  that,  while  wan- 
dering among  the  tombs  of  the  Montagus  and  Capulets, 
he  would  be  cut  off  from  his  London  office. 

Having  thus  steeped  himself  in  the  atmosphere  of  his 
work,  he  set  forth  to  learn  the  rules  of  the  game.  I 
met  him  in  Paris  on  his  return  from  New  York.  "How 
go  the  rules?"  I  asked. 

"Rotten,"  said  he.  "Our  American  playwrights  say 
there  are  no  rules;  with  them  it  is  all  inspiration.  The 
Englishmen  say  that  rules  exist,  but  what  the  rules  are 
they  either  don't  know  or  won't  tell." 

We  went  to  the  Concert  Rouge.  Those  were  the 
happy  days  when  there  were  no  frills;  when  the  price 
of  admission  was  charged  with  what  you  drank;  when 
Saint-Saens  accompanied  his  "Samson  and  Delilah" 
with  an  imaginary  flute  obligato  on  a  walking-stick; 

320 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

when  Massenet,  with  his  librettist,  Henri  Cain,  dozed 
quietly  through  the  meditation  of  "Thais";  when  the 
students  and  their  girls  forgot  frivoHty  under  the  spell 
of  "L'Arlesienne." 

In  a  smoky  corner  sat  a  group  of  well-known  French 
playwrights,  headed  by  G.  A.  Caillavet,  afterward 
famous  as  author  of  "Le  Roi."  They  were  indulging 
in  a  heated  but  whispered  discussion.  They  welcomed 
Frohman  cordially,  then  returned  to  the  debate. 

''What  are  they  talking  about?"  asked  Frohman. 

*'The  rules  of  the  drama,"  said  I. 

"Then  there  are  rules!"  cried  the  manager,  eagerly. 

"Ask  Caillavet,"  said  I. 

"Rules?"  exclaimed  Caillavet,  who  spoke  English. 
"Are  there  rules  of  painting,  sculpture,  music?  Why, 
the  drama  is  a  mass  of  rules!  It  is  nothing  but 
rules." 

"And  how  long,"  faltered  Frohman,  thinking  of  his 
play — "how  long  would  it  take  to  learn  them?" 

"x\  lifetime  at  the  very  least,"  answered  Caillavet. 
Disconsolate,  Frohman  led  me  out  into  the  Rue  de 
Tournon.  Heartbroken,  he  convoyed  me  into  Foyot's, 
and  drowned  his  sorrows  in  a  grenadine. 

From  that  hour  he  was  a  changed  man.  He  appar- 
ently put  aside  all  thought  of  the  drama  whose  name 
was  to  be  stenciled  on  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc; 
yet,  nevertheless,  he  applied  himself  assiduously  to 
learning  the  principles  on  which  the  theater  was  based. 

Another  winter  had  passed  before  we  sat  side  by  side 
on  the  terrace  of  the  Cafe  Napolitain. 

"I  have  asked  Harry  Pettitt,  the  London  melo- 
dramatist,"  Frohman  said,  "to  write  me  a  play.  *I 
warn  you,  Frohman,'  he  replied,  'that  I  have  only  one 

321 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

theme — the  Persecuted  Woman.'  Dion  Boucicault, 
who  was  present,  said,  'Add  the  Persecuted  Girl.* 
Joseph  Jefferson  was  with  us,  and  Jefferson  remarked, 
'Add  the  Persecuted  Man.'  So  was  Henry  Irving,  who 
said :  *  Pity  is  the  trump  card ;  but  be  Aristotelian,  my 
boy;  throw  in  a  Httle  Terror;  with  Pity  I  can  generally 
go  through  a  season,  as  with  'Charles  the  First'  or 
'  Olivia ' ;  with  Terror  and  Pity  combined  I  am  liable  to 
have  something  that  will  outlast  my  life."  And  Irving 
mentioned  "The  Bells"  and  "The  Lyons  Mail." 

"But  who  will  write  you  your  Terror  and  Pity?"  I 
asked  Frohman. 

"If  Terror  means  'thrill,' "  said  Frohman,  "I  can  count 
on  Belasco  and  Gillette.  If  Pity  means  '  sympathy, '  the 
EngHshmen  do  it  pretty  well.  So  does  Fitch.  So  do 
the  French,  who  used  to  be  masters  of  the  game." 

"You  don't  expect,"  I  said,  "to  pick  up  another 
*Two  Orphans,'  a  second  'Ticket  of  Leave  Man'?" 

"I'm  not  such  a  fool,"  said  Frohman.  "But  I've  got 
hold  of  something  now  that  will  help  me  to  feed  my 
stock  company  in  New  York."  And  off  we  went  with 
Dillingham  to  see  "The  Girl  from  Maxim's"  at  the 
Nouveautes. 

When  we  got  home  to  the  Ritz  Frohman  discussed  the 
play  after  his  manner:  "Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "I 
find  the  element  of  pity  quite  as  strongly  developed  in 
these  French  farces  as  in  the  Ambigu  melodramas. 
The  truant  husband  leaves  home,  goes  out  for  a  good 
time,  gets  buffeted  and  bastinadoed  for  his  pains,  and 
when  the  compassionate  audience  says,  'He  has  had 
enough;  let  up,'  he  comes  humbly  home  to  the  bosom 
of  his  family  and  is  forgiven.  Where  can  you  find  a 
more  human  theme  than  that?" 

322 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

"Then  you  hold,"  said  I,  "that  even  in  a  French 
farce  the  events  should  be  reasonable?" 

"I  wouldn't  buy  one,"  he  replied,  "if  I  didn't  con- 
sider its  basis  thoroughly  human.  Dion  Boucicault  told 
me  long  ago  that  farce,  like  tragedy,  must  be  founded  on 
granite.  'Farce,  well  done,'  said  he,  'is  the  most  diffi- 
cult form  of  dramatic  composition.  That  is  why,  if 
successful,  it  is  far  the  most  remunerative.'" 

Years  went  by.  The  stock  company  was  dead. 
"Charles  Frohman's  Comedians"  had  disappeared. 
The  "stars"  had  supplanted  them.  Frohman  was  at 
the  zenith  of  his  career.  American  papers  called  him 
* '  the  Napoleon  of  the  Drama. ' '  Prime  Ministers  courted 
him  in  the  grill-room  of  the  London  Savoy.  The  Paris 
Figaro  announced  the  coming  of  "the  celebrated  im- 
presario." I  heard  him  call  my  name  in  the  crowd 
at  the  Gare  du  Nord  and  we  bundled  into  a  cab. 

"So  you're  a  great  man  now,"  I  said. 

"Am  I?"  he  remarked.  "There's  one  thing  you  can 
bet  on.  If  they  put  me  on  a  throne  to-day  they  are 
liable  to  yank  me  off  to-morrow." 

"And  how's  your  own  play  getting  along?" 

"Don't!"  he  winced.     "Let  us  go  to  the  Snail." 

In  the  cozy  recesses  of  the  Escargot  d'Or,  near  the 
Central  Markets,  he  unraveled  the  mysteries  of  the 
"star  system"  which  had  made  him  famous. 

"It's  the  opposite  of  all  we  ever  believed,"  he  said, 
while  the  mussels  and  shell-fish  were  being  heaped  up 
before  him.  "Good-by  to  Caillavet  and  his  rules. 
Good-by,  Terror  and  Pity.  Good-by,  dear  French  farce. 
Give  me  a  pretty  girl  with  a  smile,  an  actor  with  charm, 
and  I  will  defy  our  old  friend  Aristotle." 

"Is  it  as  easy  as  that?"  I  asked,  in  amazement. 

323 


V 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

''No,"  said  he,  "it's  confoundedly  difficult  to  find  the 
girl  with  the  smile  and  the  actor  with  charm.  It  is 
pure  accident.  There  are  players  of  international 
reputation  who  can't  draw  a  dollar.  There  are  chits 
of  chorus-girls  who  can  play  a  night  of  sixteen  hundred 
dollars  in  Youngstown,  Ohio." 

"And  the  play  doesn't  matter?"  I  inquired. 

"There  you've  got  me,"  said  Frohman,  as  the  crepes 
Suzette  arrived  in  their  chafing-dish.  "My  interest 
makes  me  pretend  that  the  play's  the  thing.  I  con- 
gratulate foreign  authors  on  a  week  of  fourteen  thousand 
dollars  in  Chicago,  and  they  go  away  delighted.  But  I 
know,  all  the  time,  that  of  this  sum  the  star  drew 
thirteen  thousand  nine  hundred  dollars,  and  the  author 
the  rest." 

"To  what  do  you  attribute  such  a  state  of  af- 
fairs?" 

"Feminine  curiosity.     God  bless  the  women." 

"Are  there  no  men  in  your  audiences?"  I  asked. 

"Only  those  whom  the  women  take,"  said  Frohman. 
"The  others  go  to  musical  shows.  Have  some  more 
crepes  Suzette." 

"But  what  do  the  critics  say?"  I  persisted. 
/  "My  dear  Paul,'*  said  Frohman,  solemnly,  "they 
call  me  a  'commercial  manager'  because  I  won't  play 
Ibsen  or  Maeterlinck.  They  didn't  help  me  when  I  tried 
for  higher  game.  I  had  years  of  poverty,  years  of  pri- 
vation. To-day  I  take  advantage  of  a  general  feminine 
desire  to  view  Miss  Tottie  Coughdrop;  and,  to  the 
critics,  I'm  a  mere  Bulgarian,  a  'commercial  manager.' 
So  was  Lester  Wallack  when  he  admitted  'The  World' 
to  his  classic  theater.  So  was  Augustin  Daly  when  he 
banished  Shakespeare  in  favor  of  'The  Great  Ruby.' 

324 


PLAYS    AND    PLAYERS 

If  the  critics  want  to  reform  the  stage,  let  them  begin 
by  reforming  the  pubUc." 

In  his  cabin  on  the  Lusitania  he  showed  me  a  mass  of 
yellow  manuscript,  scribbled  over  with  hieroglyphics 
in  blue  pencil. 

''That's  my  play,"  he  said,  very  simply. 

''Shall  I  take  it  home  and  read  it?"  I  asked. 

"No,"  he  replied.  "I  will  try  it  on  Barrie  and 
bring  it  back  in  better  shape." 

So  he  shook  hands  and  sailed  with  his  cherished  drama, 
which  reposes  to-day,  not  on  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc, 
but  at  the  bottom  of  the  Irish  Sea. 


XVI 

**C.    F."   AT   REHEARSALS 

rHE  real  Charles  Frohman  emerged  at  rehearsals. 
The  shy,  sensitive  man  who  shunned  the  outside 
world  here  stood  revealed  as  a  dynamic  force.  Yet 
he  ruled  by  personality,  because  he  believed  in  person- 
ality. He  did  every  possible  thing  to  bring  out  the 
personal  element  in  the  men  and  women  in  his  companies. 

In  rehearsing  he  showed  one  of  the  most  striking  of 
his  traits.  It  was  a  method  of  speech  that  was  little 
short  of  extraordinary.  It  grew  out  of  the  fact  that 
his  vocabulary  could  not  express  his  enormous  imagina- 
tion. Instead  of  words  he  made  motions.  It  was,  as 
Augustus  Thomas  expressed  it,  *'an  exalted  panto- 
mime." Those  who  worked  with  him  interpreted  these 
gestures,  for  between  him  and  his  stars  existed  the  finest 
kinship. 

Frohman  seldom  finished  a  sentence,  yet  those  who 
knew  him  always  understood  the  unuttered  part.  Even 
when  he  would  give  a  star  the  first  intimation  of  a  new 
role  he  made  it  a  piece  of  pantomime  interspersed  with 
short,  jerky  sentences. 

William  Faversham  had  complained  about  having  two 
very  bad  parts.  When  he  went  to  see  Frohman  to  hear 
about  the  third,  this  is  the  way  the  manager  expressed 
it  to  him: 

"New  play — see?   .   .    .   Fine  part. — ^First  act — you 

326 


''C.    F/'    AT    REHEARSALS 

know — romantic — light  through  the  window  .  .  .  nice 
deep  tones  of  your  voice,  you  see?  .  .  .  Then,  audience 
say  *Ah!' — then  the  girl — see? — In  the  room  .  .  .  you 
.  .  .  one  of  those  big  scenes — then,  all  subdued — light — 
coming  through  window. — See? — ^And  then — curtain — 
audience  say  'Great!'  .  .  .  Now,  second  act  ...  all  that 
tremolo  business — ^you  know? — Then  you  get  down  to 
work  ...  a  tremendous  scene  ...  let  your  voice  go  .  .  . 
Great  climax  .  .  .  (Oh,  a  great  play  this — a  great  part!) 
.  .  .  Now,  last  act — simple — nice — lovable — refined  .  .  . 
sad  tones  in  your  voice — and,  well,  you  know — and  then 
you  make  a  big  hit.  .  .  .  Well,  now  we  will  rehearse  this 
in  about  a  week — and  you  will  be  tickled  to  death.  .  .  . 
This  is  a  great  play — fine  part.  .  .  .  Now,  you  see  Hum- 
phreys— he  will  arrange  everything." 

Of  course  Faversham  went  away  feeling  that  he  was 
about  forty-four  feet  tall,  that  he  was  a  great  actor, 
and  had  a  wonderful  part. 

Like  the  soldier  who  thrills  at  the  sound  of  battle, 
Frohman  became  galvanized  when  he  began  to  work  in 
the  theater.  He  forgot  time,  space,  and  all  other  things 
save  the  task  at  hand.  To  him  it  was  as  the  breath  of 
life. 

One  reason  was  that  the  theater  was  his  world;  the 
other  that  Charles  was,  first  and  foremost,  a  director 
and  producer.  His  sensibility  and  force,  his  feeling  and 
authority,  his  intelligence  and  comprehension  in  mat- 
ters of  dramatic  artistry  were  best,  almost  solely,  known 
to  his  players  and  immediate  associates.  No  stage- 
director  of  his  day  was  more  admired  and  desired  than 
he. 

At  rehearsal  the  announcement,  '*C.  F.  is  in  front," 
meant  for  every  one  in  the  cast  an  eager  enthusiasm  and 

327 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

a  desire  to  do  something  unusually  good  to  merit  his 
commendation.  His  enormous  energy,  aided  by  his 
diplomacy  and  humor,  inspired  the  player  to  highest 
performance. 

Such  expressions  as,  "But,  Mr.  Frohman,  this  is  my 
way  of  doing  it,"  or  ''I  feel  it  this  way,"  and  like 
manifestations  of  actors'  conceit  or  argument  would 
never  be  met  with  ridicule  or  contempt.  Sometimes  he 
would  say,  ' 'Try  it  my  way  first,"  or  ' '  Do  you  like  that  ?" 
or  ' '  Does  this  give  you  a  better  feeling  ?"  He  never  said, 
''You  must  do  thus  and  so."  He  was  alert  to  every  sug- 
gestion. As  a  result  he  got  the  very  best  out  of  his 
people.  It  was  part  of  his  policy  of  developing  the 
personal  element. 

The  genial  human  side  of  the  man  always  softened 
his  loudest  tones,  although  he  was  seldom  vehement. 
So  gentle  was  his  speech  at  rehearsals  that  the  actors 
often  came  down  to  the  footlights  to  hear  his  friendly 
yet  earnest  direction. 

Frohman  had  that  first  essential  of  a  great  dramatic 
director — a  psychologic  mind  in  the  study  of  the  various 
human  natures  of  his  actors  and  of  the  ideas  they 
attempted  to  portray. 

He  was  an  engaging  and  fascinating  figure,  too,  as 
he  molded  speech  and  shaped  the  play.  An  old  friend 
who  saw  him  in  action  thus  describes  the  picture : 

"Here  a  comedian  laughs  aloud  with  the  comic 
quaintness  of  the  director.  There  a  little  lady,  new  to 
the  stage,  is  made  to  feel  at  home  and  confident.  The 
proud  old-timer  is  sufficiently  ameliorated  to  approve 
of  the  change  suggested.  The  leading  lady  trembles 
with  the  shock  of  realization  imparted  by  the  stout  little 
man  with  chubby  smile  who,  seated  alone  in  the  dark- 

328 


'T.    F."    AT    REHEARSALS 

ened  auditorium,  conveys  his  meaning  as  with  invisible 
wires,  quietly,  quaintly,  simply,  and  rationally,  so  as 
to  stir  the  actors'  souls  to  new  sensibilities,  awaken 
thought,  and  viviby  glow  of  passion,  sentiment,  or 
humor." 

At  rehearsals  Frohman  usually  sat  alone  about  the 
tenth  row  back.  He  rarely  rose  from  his  seat,  but  by 
voice  and  gesture  indicated  the  moves  on  his  dramatic 
chess-board.  When  it  became  necessary  for  him  to  go 
on  the  stage  he  did  so  with  alacrity.  He  suggested,  by 
marvelously  simple  indications  and  quick  transitions, 
the  significance  of  the  scene  or  the  manner  of  the  pres- 
entation. 

There  was  a  curious  similarity,  in  one  respect,  between 
the  rehearsing  methods  of  Charles  Frohman  and  Augus- 
tin  Daly.  This  comparison  is  admirably  made  by 
Frohman's  life-long  friend  Franklin  H.  Sargent,  Director 
of  the  American  Academy  of  Dramatic  Arts  and  the 
Empire  School  of  Acting,  in  which  Frohman  was  greatly 
interested  and  which  he  helped  in  every  possible  way. 
He  said: 

"Like  a  great  painter  with  a  few  stray  significant 
lines  of  drawing,  Frohman  revealed  the  spirit  and  the 
idea.  In  this  respect  he  resembled  Augustin  Daly,  who 
could  furnish  much  dramatic  intuition  by  a  grunt  and 
a  thumb-joint.  Both  men  used  similar  methods  and 
possessed  equal  keenness  of  intelligence  and  sense  of 
humor,  .except  that  Frohman  was  rarely  sarcastic.  Daly 
usually  was.  Frohman 's  demeanor  and  relationship  to 
his  actors  was  kindly  and  considerate.  Rules,  and  all 
strictly  enforced,  were  in  Daly's  policy  of  theater  man- 
agement. Frohman  did  not  resort  to  rules.  He  regu- 
lated his  theaters  on  broad  principles,  but  with  firm 
22  329 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

decision  when  necessary.  In  Daly's  theater  there  was 
obedience;  in  Frohman's  theater  there  was  a  wilHng 
co-operation.  The  chief  interest  of  both  managers  was 
comedy — comedy  of  two  opposite  kinds.  Daly's  jest 
was  the  artificial  German  farce  and  Shakespearian  re- 
finement. Frohman's  tastes  ranged  between  the  French 
school — Sardou's  'Diplomacy'  and  the  modern  reali- 
ties— and  the  pure  sentiments  of  Barrie's  'The  Little 
Minister.'  Frohman  was  never  traditional  in  an  artifi- 
cial sense,  though  careful  to  retain  the  fundamental 
original  treatment  of  imported  foreign  plays. 

"The  verities,  the  humanities,  the  joys  of  life  always 
existed  and  grew  with  him  as  with  a  good  landscape 
architect  who  keeps  in  nature's  ways.  His  departures 
into  the  classicism  of  Stephen  Phillips,  the  romanticism 
of  Shakespeare,  or  the  exotic  French  society  drama 
were  never  as  valuable  and  delightful  as  his  treatment 
of  modern  sentiment  and  comedy." 

In  this  respect  a  comparison  with  the  workmanship  of 
another  genius  of  the  American  theater,  David  Belasco, 
is  inevitable.  Belasco,  the  great  designer  and  painter  of 
theatrical  pictures,  holds  quite  a  different  point  of  view 
and  possesses  different  abilities  from  those  of  Charles 
Frohman.  Belasco  revels  in  the  technique  of  the  actor. 
Frohman's  metier  was  the  essentials.  The  two  men 
were  in  many  ways  complements  of  each  other  and  per 
force  admirers  of  each  other  and  friends.  In  brief, 
Belasco  is  the  technicist;  Frohman  was  the  humani- 
tarian. 

Charles  usually  left  details  of  scenery,  lighting,  and 
minor  matters  to  his  stage-manager.  "Look  after  the 
little  things,"  he  would  say,  in  business  as  in  art,  for 
he  himself  was  interested  only  in  the  larger  themes. 

330 


''C.    F."    AT    REHEARSALS 

The  lesser  people  of  the  play,  the  early  rehearsing  of 
involved  business,  was  shaped  by  his  subordinates. 
The  smaller  faults  and  the  mannerisms  of  the  actor  did 
not  trouble  him,  provided  the  main  thought  and  feeling 
were  there.  He  would  merely  laugh  at  a  suggestion  to 
straighten  out  the  legs  and  walk,  to  lengthen  the  drawl, 
or  to  heighten  the  cockney  accent  of  a  prominent  mem- 
ber of  his  company,  saying : 

"The  public  likes  him  for  these  natural  things." 

Frohman's  ear  was  musically  sensitive.  The  intona- 
tions, inflections,  the  tone  colors  of  voice,  orchestral 
and  incidental  music,  found  him  an  exacting  critic. 

To  plays  he  gave  thought,  study,  and  preparation. 
The  author  received  much  advice  and  direction  from 
him.  He  himself  possessed  the  expert  knowledge  and 
abilities  of  a  playwright,  as  is  always  true  of  every  good 
stage-director.  Each  new  play  was  planned,  written, 
cast,  and  revised  completely  under  his  guidance  and 
supervision.  His  stage-manager  had  been  instructed 
in  advance  in  the  ''plotting"  of  its  treatment.  The  first 
rehearsals  were  usually  left  in  charge  of  this  assistant. 

At  the  first  rehearsals  Frohman  made  little  or  no  com- 
ments. He  watched  and  studied  in  silence.  Thereafter 
his  master-mind  would  reveal  itself  in  reconstruction  of 
lines  and  scenes,  re-accentuation  of  the  high  and  low 
lights  of  the  story  involved,  and  improvement  of  the 
acting  and  representation.  Frohman  consulted  with 
his  authors,  artists,  and  assistants  more  in  his  office  than 
in  actual  rehearsal.  In  the  theater  he  was  sole  auditor 
and  judge.  His  stage-manager  would  rarely  make  sug- 
gestions during  rehearsals  unless  beckoned  to  and  asked 
by  his  manager.  When  the  office-boy  came  in  at  re- 
hearsal on  some  important  business  errand,  he  got  a  curt 

331 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

dismissal,  or  at  most  a  brief  consideration  of  the  despatch, 
contract,  or  message. 

Here  is  a  vivid  view  of  Frohman  at  rehearsal  by  one 
who  often  sat  under  the  magic  of  his  direction: 

''In  the  dim  theater  he  sits  alone,  the  stage-manager 
being  at  a  respectable  distance.  If  by  chance  there  are 
one  or  two  others  present  directly  concerned  in  the  pro- 
duction, they  all  sit  discreetly  in  the  extreme  rear.  The 
company  is  grouped  in  the  wings,  never  in  the  front. 
The  full  stage  lights  throw  into  prominence  the  actors 
in  the  scene  in  rehearsal.  Occasionally  the  voice  of  Mr. 
Frohman  calls  from  the  auditorium,  and  the  direction 
is  sometimes  repeated  more  loudly  by  the  stage-manager. 
Everybody  is  listening  and  watching. 

"The  wonderfully  responsive  and  painstaking  nature 
of  Maude  Adams  is  fully  alive,  alert,  and  interested  in 
Mr.  Frohman 's  directions  even  in  the  scenes  in  which 
she  has  no  personal  part,  during  which,  very  likely,  she 
will  half  recline  on  the  floor  near  the  proscenium — all 
eyes  and  ears. 

"Or  perhaps  it  is  a  strong  emotional  scene  in  which 
Margaret  Anglin  is  the  central  character.  At  the 
theatrically  most  effective  point  in  the  acting  the  voice 
breaks  in,  Miss  Anglin  stops,  hastens  to  the  footlights, 
and  listens  intently  to  a  few  simple,  quiet  words.  Over 
her  face  pass  shadow  and  storm,  and  in  her  eyes  tears 
form.  Again  she  begins  the  scene,  and  yet  again,  with 
cumulative  passion.  Each  time,  with  each  new  incite- 
ment from  the  sympathetic  director,  new  power,  deeper 
feeling,  keener  thought  develop,  until  a  great  glow  of 
meaning  and  of  might  fills  the  stage  and  the  theater 
with  its  radiance.  Mr.  Frohman  is  at  last  satisfied,  and 
so  the  play  moves  on." 

332 


''C,    F."    AT    REHEARSALS 

Just  as  Frohman  loved  humor  in  life,  so  did  he  have 
a  rare  gift  for  comedy  rehearsal.  William  Faversham 
pays  him  this  tribute: 

"I  think  Charles  Frohman  was  the  greatest  comedy 
stage-manager  that  I  have  known.  I  do  not  think  there 
was  a  comedy  ever  written  that  he  could  not  rehearse 
and  get  more  out  of  than  any  other  stage-director  I 
have  ever  seen — and  I  have  seen  a  good  many.  If  he 
had  devoted  himself,  as  director,  entirely  to  one  com- 
pany, I  think  he  would  have  produced  the  greatest 
organization  of  comedians  that  Europe  or  America  ever 
saw.  I  don't  suppose  there  is  a  comedy  scene  that 
he  couldn't  rehearse  and  play  better  than  any  of  the 
actors  who  were  engaged  to  play  the  parts.  The  subtle 
touches  that  he  put  into  'Lord  and  Lady  Algy'  were 
extraordinary.  The  same  with  'The  Counsellor's  Wife,' 
with  'Bohemia,'  and  again  with  a  play  of  H.  V.  Es- 
mond's called  'Imprudence,'  which  we  did.  He  seemed 
to  love  this  play,  and  I  never  saw  a  piece  grow  so  in  all 
my  life  as  it  did  under  his  direction.  All  the  successes 
made  by  the  actors  and  actresses  in  that  play  were 
entirely  through  the  work  of  Charles  Frohman. 

"He  had  a  keen  sense  of  sound,  a  tremendous  ear  for 
tones  of  comedy.  He  could  get  ten  or  twelve  inflections 
out  of  a  speech  of  about  four  lines;  he  had  a  wonderful 
method  of  getting  the  actors  to  accept  and  project  these 
tones  over  the  footlights.  He  got  what  he  wanted  from 
them  in  the  most  extraordinary  way.  With  his  dis- 
jointed, pantomimic  method  of  instruction  he  was  able 
to  transfer  to  them,  as  if  by  telepathy,  what  he 
wanted. 

"For  instance,  he  would  say:  'Now,  you  go  over 
there  .  .  .  then,  just  as  he  is  looking  at  you  .  .  .  see? — 

333 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

say — then  .  .  .  that's  it!  you  know?'   And  simply  by  this 
telepathy  you  did  know.'' 

His  terse  summing  up  of  scenes  and  facts  was  never 
better  illustrated  than  when  he  compressed  the  instruc- 
tions of  a  whole  sentimental  act  into  this  simple  sentence 
toE.  H.  Sothern: 

' '  Court — ^kiss — curtain/  * 

In  one  detail  he  differed  from  all  the  other  great 
producers  of  his  time.  Most  managers  liked  to  nurse  a 
play  after  its  production  and  build  it  up  with  new  scenes 
or  varied  changes.  With  Frohman  it  was  different. 
"I  am  interested  in  a  production  until  it  has  been  made, 
and  then  I  don't  care  for  it  any  more,"  he  said.  This 
is  generally  true,  although  some  of  his  productions  he 
could  never  see  often  enough. 

Frohman 's  perception  about  a  play  was  little  short  of 
uncanny.  An  incident  that  happened  during  the  re- 
hearsal of  the  Maude  Adams  all-star  revival  of  ''Romeo 
and  Juliet"  will  illustrate.  James  K.  Hackett  was  cast 
for  Mercutio.  He  had  worked  for  a  month  on  the  Queen 
Mab  speech.  He  had  elaborated  and  polished  it,  and 
thought  he  had  it  letter  and  tone  perfect. 

Frohman  sat  down  near  the  front  and  listened  with 
rapt  attention  while  this  fine  actor  declaimed  the 
speech.  When  he  finished  Charles  said,  in  his  jerky, 
epigrammatic  way: 

"Hackett,  that's  fine,  but  just  in  there  somewhere — 
you  know  what  I  mean." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Hackett,  with  all  his  elaborate 
preparation,  had  slipped  up  on  one  line,  and  it  was  a 
very  essential  one.  Frohman  had  never  read  ''Romeo 
and  Juliet"  until  he  cast  this  production,  yet  he  caught 
the  omission  with  his  extraordinary  intuition. 

334 


'T.    F."    AT    REHEARSALS 

Charles  was  the  most  indefatigable  of  workers.  At 
one  time,  on  arriving  in  Boston  at  midnight,  he  had  to 
stage  a  new  act  of  "Peter  Pan."  He  worked  over  it 
with  carpenters,  actors,  and  electricians  until  three 
in  the  morning.  Then  he  made  an  appointment  with 
the  acting  manager  to  take  a  walk  on  the  Common  "in 
the  morning." 

The  manager  took  "in  the  morning"  to  mean  nine 
o'clock.  When  he  reached  the  hotel  Frohman  was  just 
returning  from  his  walk,  and  handed  the  man  a  bunch 
of  cables  to  send,  telegrams  to  acknowledge,  and  memo- 
randa of  information  desired.  At  ten  o'clock  Frohman 
was  conducting  the  rehearsal  of  a  new  comedy  by 
Haddon  Chambers,  which  he  finished  at  four.  At  five 
he  was  on  a  train  speeding  back  to  New  York,  where 
he  probably  read  manuscripts  of  plays  until  two  in  the 
morning.     This  was  one  of  the  typical  "C.  F."  days. 

Occasionally  a  single  detail  would  fascinate  him  in  a 
play.  "The  Waltz  Dream"  that  he  did  at  the  Hicks 
Theater  in  London  in  1908  was  typical.  Miss  Gertie 
Millar,  who  sang  the  leading  part,  had  an  important  song. 
Frohman  did  not  like  the  way  she  sang  it,  so  he  worked 
on  it  for  two  weeks  until  it  reached  the  perfection  of 
expression  that  he  desired.  But  that  song  made  the 
play  and  became  the  most-talked-of  feature  in  it.  This 
led  him  to  say : 

' '  I  am  willing  to  give  as  much  time  to  a  single  song  as 
to  the  rehearsal  of  a  whole  play." 

Frohman  had  a  phrase  that  he  often  used  with  his 
actors  and  directors.     It  was: 

"Never  get  a  'falling  curtain.'" 

By  this  he  meant  a  curtain  that  did  not  leave  interest 

335 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

or  emotion  subdued  or  declining.  He  wanted  the  full 
sweep  of  rage,  terror,  pity,  suspense,  or  anger  alive  with 
the  end  of  the  act. 

He  always  said,  *'A  man  who  sees  a  play  must  feel 
that  he  is  in  the  presence  of  an  act."  It  was  his  way  of 
putting  forth  the  idea  that  any  acted  effort,  no  matter 
how  humble,  must  have  the  ring  of  sincerity  and  con- 
viction. 

Charles  had  an  almost  weird  instinct  for  what  was 
right  on  the  stage.  Once  at  rehearsals  he  pointed  to  a 
heav}^  candelabrum  that  stood  on  a  table. 

"I  want  that  thing  on  the  mantelpiece,"  he  said. 

"You  mean  the  candelabrum?"  asked  one  of  his  as- 
sistants. 

"I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but  I  know  that  it  belongs 
on  the  mantelpiece."     And  it  did. 

Many  of  Frohman's  rehearsals  were  held  out  of  town. 
He  was  particularly  fond  of  "pointing  up"  a  production 
in  a  strange  environment.  Then  the  stage-director 
would  ask  the  local  manager  for  an  absolutely  empty 
theater — "a  clear  auditorium." 

"Peter  Pan"  was  to  be  "finished  off"  at  Washington. 
The  call  was  issued,  the  company  assembled — every- 
body was  present  except  Frohman.  "Strange, "  was  the 
thought  in  all  minds,  for  he  was  usually  so  prompt.  Ten 
minutes,  fifteen  minutes  passed  until  the  stage-manager 
left  the  theater  in  search  of  the  manager.  He  was  found 
at  the  front  entrance  of  the  theater,  unsuccessfully  argu- 
ing with  a  German  door-tender  who,  not  knowing  him 
and  immensely  amused  at  the  idea  that  he  was  pretend- 
ing to  be  Charles  Frohman,  refused  to  admit  him  until 
reassured  by  the  company  stage-manager.     Later,  when 

336 


^X.    F."    AT    REHEARSALS 

the  man  came  to  apologize,  Frohman's  only  comment 
was: 

"Oh!     I  forgot  that  an  hour  ago." 

Few  people  knew  the  Frohman  of  rehearsals  so  well 
as  William  Seymour,  for  many  years  his  general  stage- 
director.  His  illuminating  picture  of  the  Little  Chief 
he  served  so  long  is  as  follows: 

''At  rehearsals  Charles  Frohman  was  completely 
wrapped  up  in  the  play  and  the  players.  His  mind, 
however,  traveled  faster  than  we  did.  He  often  stopped 
me  to  make  a  change  in  a  line  or  in  the  business  which 
to  me  was  not  at  all  clear.  You  could  not  always 
grasp,  at  once,  just  what  he  was  aiming  at.  But  once 
understood,  the  idea  became  illuminative,  and  extended 
into  the  next,  or  even  to  succeeding  acts  of  the  play. 
He  could  detect  a  weak  spot  quicker  than  any  one  I 
ever  knew,  and  could  remedy  or  straighten  it  out  just 
as  quickly. 

''After  the  rehearsal  of  a  new  play  he  would  think 
of  it  probably  all  the  evening  and  night,  and  the  next 
morning  he  had  the  solutions  of  the  several  vague 
points  at  his  fingers'  ends.  He  was  also  very  positive 
and  firm  in  what  he  wanted  done,  and  how  he  thought 
it  should  be  done.  But  what  he  thought  was  right,  he  be- 
lieved to  be  right,  and  he  soon  made  you  see  it  that  way. 

'  *  I  confess  to  having  had  many  differences  of  opinion 
and  arguments,  sometimes  even  disagreements,  with 
him.  In  some  instances  he  came  round  to  my  way  of 
thinking,  but  he  often  said : 

'"I  believe  you  are  right — I  am  sure  you  are  right — 
but  I  intend  doing  it  my  way.' 

"It  was  his  great  and  wonderful  self-confidence,  and 
it  was  rarely  overestimated. 

337 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

"To  his  actors  in  a  new  play,  after  a  week's  *  roughing 
out'  of  the  lines  and  business,  the  announcement  that 
'  C.  F.  will  be  here  to-morrow'  would  cause  a  flutter, 
some  consternation,  and  to  the  newer  members  a  great 
fear.  To  those  who  had  been  with  him  before  he  was 
like  a  sheet-anchor  in  a  storm.  They  knew  him  and 
trusted  and  loved  him.  He  was  all  sympathy,  all  com- 
fort, all  encouragement — ^if  anything,  too  indulgent  and 
overkind.  But  he  won  the  confidence  and  affection 
of  his  people  at  the  outset,  and  I  have  rarely  met  a 
player  who  would  not  have  done  his  slightest  bidding." 

One  of  Frohman's  characteristic  hobbies  was  that  he 
would  never  allow  the  leading  man  or  the  leading 
woman  of  his  theater,  or  anybody  in  the  company, 
no  matter  what  position  he  or  she  held,  to  presume 
upon  that  position  and  bully  the  property  man,  or  the 
assistant  stage  -  manager,  or  any  person  in  a  menial 
position  in  the  theater.  He  was  invariably  on  the  side 
of  the  smaller  people. 

Very  often  he  would  say,  ''The  smallest  member  of 
this  organization,  be  he  of  the  staff  or  in  the  company, 
has  as  much  right  to  his  *say'  in  an  argument  as  the 
biggest  member  has." 

On  one  occasion  a  certain  actor,  who  was  rather 
fond  of  issuing  his  wishes  and  instructions  in  a  very  loud 
voice,  made  his  exit  through  a  door  up  the  center  of  the 
stage  which  was  very  difficult  to  open  and  shut.  It  had 
not  worked  well,  and  this  had  happened,  quite  by  acci- 
dent, on  several  occasions  during  the  run  of  the  play. 
The  actor  had  spoken  rather  sharply  to  the  carpenter 
about  it  instead  of  going,  as  he  should  have  done,  to 
the   stage-manager.     He   always   called   the   carpenter 

338 


*'C.    F."    AT    REHEARSALS 

"Charley."  The  carpenter  was  a  rather  dignified  per- 
son named  Charles  Heimley. 

On  the  night  in  question  this  actor  had  had  the 
usual  trouble  with  the  door.  Heimley  was  not  in  sight, 
for  he  was  evidently^  down  in  his  carpenter-shop  under 
the  stage.  The  actor  leaned  over  the  balustrade  and 
called  out:    ''Charley!    Charley!" 

Frohman,  who  was  just  walking  through  the  side 
door  on  his  way  to  William  Faversham's  dressing-room, 
turned  to  the  star  and  said: 

''Who  is  calling?     Does  he  want  me?" 

"Oh  no,  he  is  calling  the  carpenter,"  replied  Faver- 
sham. 

Frohman  tapped  the  noisy  actor  on  the  shoulder  with 
his  stick,  and  said,  "You  mean  Mr.  Heimley,  don't 
you?"  He  wanted  the  carpenter's  position  to  be  re- 
spected. 


XVII 

HUMOR   AND   ANECDOTE 

r'HE  most  distinctive  quality  in  Charles  Frohman's 
make-up  was  his  sense  of  humor.  He  mixed  jest 
with  life,  and  it  enabled  him  to  meet  crisis  and  dis- 
aster with  unflagging  spirit  and  smiling  equanimity.  Like 
Lincoln,  he  often  resorted  to  anecdote  and  story  to  il- 
lustrate his  point.  He  summed  up  his  whole  theory 
of  life  one  day  when  he  said  to  Augustus  Thomas: 
''I  am  satisfied  if  the  day  gives  me  one  good  laugh." 
He  had  a  brilliancy  of  retort  that  suggested  Wilde 
or  Whistler.     Once  he  was  asked  this  question: 

"What  is  the  difference  between  metropolitan  and 
out-of-town  audiences  ? ' ' 
** Fifty  cents,"  he  replied. 

Haddon  Chambers  was  writing  a  note  in  Frohman's 
rooms  at  the  Savoy. 

"Do  you  spell  high-ball  with  a  hyphen?"  he  asked. 
"No,  with  a  siphon,"  responded  Frohman. 

Charles  DilHngham,  when  in  Frohman's  employ,  was 
ordered  to  hurry  back  to  New  York.  From  a  small 
town  up  New  York  state  he  wired : 

Wash-out  on   line.     Will  return   as  soon  as 
possible. 

340 


HUMOR    AND    ANECDOTE 

Frohman  promptly  sent  the  following  reply: 

Never  mind  your  wash.     Buy  a  new  shirt  and 

come  along  at  once. 

* 

That  he  could  also  meet  failure  with  a  joke  is  shown 
by  the  following  incident: 

He  was  producing  a  play  at  Atlantic  City  that  seemed 
doomed  from  the  start.  In  writing  to  a  member  of  his 
family  he  said: 

I  never  saw  the  waves  so  high  and  the  receipts 
so  low. 

Frohman  and  Pinero  were  dining  in  the  Carleton 
grill-room  one  night  when  a  noisy  person  rushed  up  to 
them,  slapped  each  on  the  shoulder,  and  said: 

"Hello,  'C.  F.M     Hello,  'Pin.'!     I'm  Hopkins." 

Frohman  looked  up  gravely  and  said: 

''Ah,  Mr.  Hopkins,  I  can't  say  that  I  remember  your 
name  or  your  face,  but  your  manner  is  familiar." 

When  Edna  May  married  Oscar  Lewisohn  she  gave  a 
reception  on  her  return  from  the  honeymoon.  She  sent 
Charles  one  of  the  conventional  engraved  cards  that 
read: 

''At  home  Thursday  from  four  to  six.'' 

Frohman  immediately  sent  back  the  card,  on  which  he 
had  written,  "So  am  I." 

Once  when  Frohman  and  Dillingham  were  crossing 
to  Europe  on  the  Oceanic  they  had  as  fellow-passenger 
a  mutual  friend,  Henry  Dazian,  the  theatrical  costumer, 
on  whom  Charles  delighted  to  play  pranks.     On  the  first 

341 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

day  out  Dillingham  came  rushing  back  to  Frohman 
with  this  exclamation: 

''There  are  a  couple  of  card-sharks  on  board  and 
Dazian  is  playing  with  them.  Don't  you  think  we  had 
better  warn  him?" 

"No,"  replied  Frohman.     **Warn  the  sharks." 

Some  years  ago  Frohman  sent  a  young  actor  named 
John  Brennan  out  on  the  road  in  the  South  in  "Too 
Much  Johnson."  Brennan  was  a  Southerner,  and  he 
believed  that  he  could  do  a  big  business  in  his  home 
country.  Frohman  then  went  to  London,  and,  when 
playing  hearts  at  the  Savoy  one  night  with  Dillingham, 
a  page  brought  a  cablegram.  It  was  from  Brennan, 
saying : 

Unless   I   get   two   hundred   dollars    by   next 
Saturday  night  I  can't  close. 

Whereupon  Frohman  wired  him: 

Keep  going. 

Frohman  delighted  to  play  jokes  on  his  close  friends. 
In  1900,  Dillingham  opened  the  New  Jersey  Academy 
of  Music  with  Julia  Marlowe,  and  it  was  a  big  event. 
This  was  before  the  day  of  the  tubes  under  the  Hud- 
son connecting  New  Jersey  and  New  York.  When 
Dillingham  went  down  to  the  ferry  to  cross  over  for 
the  opening  night  he  found  a  basket  of  flowers  from 
Frohman  marked,  "Bon  voyage." 

Nor  could  Frohman  be  lacking  in  the  graceful  reply. 
During  a  return  engagement  of  "The  Man  from 
Mexico,"  in  the  Garrick  Theater,  William  Collier  became 

342 


HUMOR    AND    ANECDOTE 

very  ill  with  erysipelas  and  had  to  go  to  a  hospital. 
The  day  the  engagement  was  resumed  happened  to  be 
Frohman's  birthday,  and  Collier  sent  him  the  following 
cablegram : 

Many    happy    returns   from    all    your    box 
offices. 

He  received  the  following  answer  from  Frohman : 

My   happiest   return   is   your   return   to   the 
Gar  rick. 

Behind  all  of  Frohman's  jest  and  humor  was  a  serious 
outlook  on  life.  It  was  mixed  with  big  philosophy,  too, 
as  this  incident  will  show: 

He  was  visiting  Sir  George  Alexander  at  his  country 
house  in  Kent.  Alexander,  who  is  a  great  dog  fancier, 
asked  Frohman  to  accompany  him  while  he  chained  up 
his  animals.  Frohman  watched  the  performance  with 
great  interest.  Then  he  turned  to  the  actor-manager 
and  said: 

*'I  have  got  a  lot  of  dogs  out  at  my  country  place  in 
America,  but  I  never  tie  them  up." 

"Why?"  asked  Alexander. 

"Let  other  people  tie  up  the  dogs.  You  let  them 
out  and  they  will  always  like  you." 

Frohman  was  known  to  his  friends  as  a  master  of 
epigram.     Some  of  his  distinctive  sayings  are  these: 

"The  best  seat  at  a  theater  is  the  paid  one." 

"An  ounce  of  imagination  is  worth  a  pound  of  prac- 
ticality." 

"The  man  who  makes  up  his  mind  to  corner  things 
generally  gets  cornered." 

343 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

"You  cannot  monopolize  theaters  while  there  are 
bricks  and  mortar." 

"When  I  hear  of  another  theater  being  built  I  try- 
to  build  another  author." 

"No  successful  theatrical  producer  ever  died  rich. 
He  must  make  money  for  everybody  but  himself." 

"Great  stage  successes  are  the  plays  that  take  hold 
of  the  masses,  not  the  classes." 

Frohman  could  always  reach  the  heart  of  a  situation 
with  a  pithy  phrase  or  reply.  On  one  of  the  rare  oc- 
casions when  he  attended  a  public  dinner  he  sat  at  the 
Metropolitan  Club  in  New  York  with  a  group  of  men 
representing  a  variety  of  interests.  He  condemned  a 
certain  outrageously  immodest  Oriental  dancer,  who, 
at  the  moment,  was  shocking  New  York. 

"She  must  have  a  nasty  mind  to  dance  like  that," 
said  Frohman. 

"Don't  be  too  hard  on  her,"  responded  a  playwright 
who  sat  near  by.     "Consider  how  young  she  is." 

"I  deny  that  she  is  as  young  as  you  imply,"  retorted 
Frohman.  "But  I  am  bound  to  admit  that  she  is  cer- 
tainly a  stripling.'' 

Frohman's  mind  worked  with  amazing  swiftness. 
Here  is  an  example : 

At  the  formation  of  a  London  society  called  the  West 
End  Managers  Association,  Sir  Charles  Wyndham  gave 
a  luncheon  at  the  Hyde  Park  Hotel  to  discuss  and  ar- 
range preliminaries.  Most  of  the  London  managers 
were  present,  including  Frohman.  There  was  a  dis- 
cussion as  to  what  should  be  the  entrance  fee  for  each 
member.     Various  sums  were  discussed  from  £ioo  down- 

344 


HUMOR    AND    ANECDOTE 

ward.  Twenty-five  pounds  seemed  to  be  the  most 
generally  accepted,  when  one  manager  said: 

"Why  should  we  not  each  give  one  night's  receipts." 

This  was  discussed  for  a  little  while,  when  Sir  Charles 
said,  "What  do  you  say,  Frohman?" 

The  American  replied,  "I  would  sooner  give  a  night's 
receipts  than  £25." 

There  was  a  short  silence,  then  everybody  seemed  to 
remember  that  he  had  at  that  moment  a  failure  at  his 
theater.  The  humor  of  it  was  hailed  with  a  shout  of 
laughter. 

Just  as  he  mixed  sentiment  in  business  so  did  Froh- 
man infuse  wit  into  most  of  his  relations.  He  once 
instructed  W.  Lestocq,  his  London  manager,  to  conduct 
certain  negotiations  for  a  new  play  with  a  Scotchwoman 
whose  first  play  had  made  an  enormous  success  in 
America,  and  whose  head  had  been  turned  by  it.  The 
woman's  terms  were  ten  thousand  dollars  in  advance 
and  a  fifteen-per-cent.  royalty.  When  Lestocq  told 
Frohman  these  terms  over  the  telephone,  all  he  said 
was  this: 

"Did  you  tell  her  not  to  slam  the  door?" 

Frohman  would  always  have  his  joke  in  London,  as 
this  incident  shows: 

He  had  just  arrived  in  town  and  went  to  a  bank  in 
Charing  Cross  with  a  letter  of  credit,  which  he  deposited. 
When  he  emerged  he  was  smiling  all  over. 

"I  got  one  on  that  young  man  behind  the  counter," 
he  said. 

"How's  that?"  asked  Lestocq,  who  was  waiting  for 
him, 

23  345 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

"Well,"  he  replied,  'Hhe  young  man  bade  me  good 
morning  and  asked  me  if  I  have  brought  over  anything 
good  this  time.  I  replied,  'Yes,  a  letter  of  credit  on 
your  bank,  and  I  am  waiting  to  see  if  it  is  any  good.'  " 

A  manager,  who  for  present  purposes  must  be  named 
Smith,  called  on  Frohman  to  secure  the  services  of  a 
star  at  that  time  under  contract  to  the  latter.  His 
plan  was  to  drop  in  on  Frohman  at  a  busy  hour,  quickly 
state  the  case,  and,  getting  an  affirmative  answer,  leave 
without  talking  terms  at  all.  Later  he  knew  it  would 
be  enough  to  recall  the  affirmative  answer  that  had  been 
given  without  qualification.  The  transaction  took  but 
a  moment,  just  as  the  manager  wished. 

''Well,  then,  I  may  have  him?"  said  Smith. 

"Er-m-ah-er-yes — I  will  let  you  have  him,"  replied 
Frohman,  at  the  same  time  running  over  a  paper  before 
him.     The  visitor  was  already  at  the  door. 

"By  the  way.  Smith,"  called  out  Frohman,  "how 
much  do  you  want  me  to  pay  you  for  taking  him  off 
my  hands?" 

Frohman  was  as  playful  as  a  child.  Once  he  was 
riding  in  a  petit  voiture  in  Paris.  It  was  a  desperately 
hot  night.  The  old  cocher  took  his  hat  off,  hung  it  on 
the  lamp,  and  wiped  his  forehead.  Frohman  took  the 
hat  and  hid  it  under  his  seat.  When  the  driver  looked 
for  his  hat  it  was  gone.  He  stopped  the  horse  and  ran 
back  two  or  three  blocks  before  he  could  be  stopped. 
Then  he  went  on  without  it,  muttering  and  cursing,  and 
turning  around  every  few  moments.  Watching  his  op- 
portunity, Frohman  slipped  the  hat  back  on  the  lamp, 
and  there  was  the  expected  climax  that  he  thoroughly 
enjoyed. 

346 


HUMOR    AND    ANECDOTE 

On  one  of  his  trips  to  Paris  he  was  accompanied  by 
DilHngham.  Knowing  Frohman's  fondness  for  rich 
food,  his  friend  decided  to  take  him  to  dine  at  Durand's 
famous  restaurant  opposite  the  Madeleine.  He  even 
went  to  the  cafe  in  the  afternoon  and  told  the  proprietor 
that  he  was  going  to  bring  the  great  American  manager. 
Great  anticipation  prevailed  in  the  establishment. 

That  night  when  they  got  to  the  restaurant  Frohman 
gave  Dillingham  the  shock  of  his  life  by  saying : 

**I  want  to  be  a  real  American  to-night.  All  I  want 
is  an  oyster  stew." 

Dillingham  instructed  the  chef  how  to  make  the 
stew.  After  long  delay  there  was  a  commotion.  In 
strode  the  chef,  followed  by  two  assistants,  bearing  aloft 
a  gigantic  silver  tureen  which  was  placed  on  the  table 
and  opened  with  great  ceremony.  Inside  was  a  huge 
quantity  of  consomme  with  two  lonely  oysters  floating 
on  top. 

Frohman  regarded  it  as  a  great  joke,  and  ever  after- 
ward when  he  met  anybody  in  Paris  that  he  did  not  like, 
he  would  say  to  them: 

'  *  If  you  want  the  finest  oyster  stew  in  the  world,  go 
to  Durand's." 

Frohman,  who  was  always  playing  jokes  on  his 
friends,  was  sometimes  the  victim  himself.  He  was 
crossing  the  ocean  with  Haddon  Chambers  when  the 
latter  was  accosted  by  two  enterprising  young  men 
who  were  arranging  the  ship's  concert.  Chambers  was 
asked  to  take  part,  but  declined.  Then  he  had  an  in- 
spiration. 

''We  have  on  board  the  greatest  American  singer  of 
coon  songs  known  to  the  stage." 

347 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

"Who  is  that?"  asked  the  men. 
.  "It's  Charles  Frohman." 

The  men  gasped. 

"Of  course  we  knew  him  as  a  great  manager,  but  we 
never  knew  he  could  sing." 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Chambers.     "He  is  a  great  singer." 

He  pointed  out  Frohman  and  hid  behind  a  lifeboat 
to  await  the  result.  Soon  he  heard  a  sputter  and  a 
shriek  of  rage,  and  the  two  men  came  racing  down  the 
boat  as  if  pursued  by  some  terror.  Up  came  Frohman, 
his  face  livid  with  rage. 

"What  do  you  think?"  he  said  to  Chambers,  who 
stood  innocently  by.  "Those  men  had  the  nerve  to 
ask  me  to  sing  a  coon  song.  I  have  never  been  so  in- 
sulted in  all  my  life." 

He  was  so  enraged  that  he  wrote  a  letter  to  the  steam- 
ship line  about  it  and  withdrew  his  patronage  from  the 
company  for  several  years  in  consequence. 

Here  is  another  instance  when  the  joke  was  on  Froh- 
man. No  one  viewed  the  manager's  immense  success 
with  keener  pride  or  pleasure  than  his  father,  Henry 
Frohman.  As  theater  after  theater  came  under  the  son's 
direction  the  parent  could  gratify  his  great  passion  for 
giving  people  free  passes  to  its  fullest  extent.  He 
would  appear  at  the  offices  at  the  Em.pire  Theater  with 
his  pockets  bulging  with  home-made  cigars.  The  men 
in  the  office  always  accepted  the  cigars,  but  never  smoked 
them.     But  they  gave  him  all  the  passes  he  wanted. 

One  day  the  father  stopped  in  to  see  Charles.  It  was 
a  raw  spring  day.  Charles  remarked  that  the  overcoat 
Henry  wore  was  too  thin. 

"Go  to  my  tailor  and  get  an  overcoat,"  he  said. 

348 


HUMOR    AND    ANECDOTE 

"Not  much,"  said  the  father.  ''Your  tailor  is  too 
expensive.  He  robs  you.  He  wouldn't  make  one  under 
seventy-five  dollars,  and  I  never  pay  more  than  twenty 
dollars." 

Charles's  eye  twinkled.     He  said,  quickly: 

''You  are  mistaken.  My  tailor  will  make  you  a  coat 
for  twenty  dollars.     Go  down  and  get  one." 

Father  went  down  to  the  fashionable  Fifth  Avenue 
tailor.  Meanwhile  Frohman  called  him  up  and  gave 
instructions  to  make  a  coat  for  his  father  at  a  very  low 
price  and  have  the  difference  charged  to  him. 

In  an  hour  Henry  Frohman  came  back  all  excitement. 
"I  am  a  real  business  man,"  he  said.  "I  persuaded 
that  tailor  of  yours  to  make  me  an  overcoat  for  twenty 
dollars." 

Charles  immediately  gave  him  the  twenty  dollars 
and  sent  the  tailor  a  check  for  the  difference  between 
that  and  the  real  price,  which  was  ninety -five  dollars. 
He  dismissed  the  matter  from  his  mind. 

A  few  days  later  Charles  had  another  visit  from  his 
father.  This  time  he  was  in  high  glee.  He  could  hardly 
wait  to  tell  the  great  news. 

"You've  often  said  I  wasn't  a  good  business  man," 
he  told  his  son.  "Well,  I  can  prove  to  you  that  I  am. 
The  other  night  one  of  my  friends  admired  my  new  over- 
coat so  much  that  I  sold  it  to  him  for  thirty-five  dollars." 

Charles  said  nothing,  but  had  to  pay  for  another  one- 
hundred-and-fifteen-dollar  overcoat  because  he  did  not 
want  to  shatter  his  father's  illusion. 


Here  is  still  another.  When  Frohman  got  back  to 
New  York  from  a  trip  few  things  interested  him  so 
much  as  a  good  dinner.     It  always  wiped  out  the  mem- 

349 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

ory  of  hard  times  or  unpleasant  experiences.  Once  he 
returned  from  a  costly  visit  to  the  West.  On  Broadway 
he  met  an  old-time  comedian  who  had  been  in  one  of 
his  companies.     His  greeting  was  cordial. 

"And  now,  'C.  F.,'  "  said  the  comedian,  ''you've  got 
to  come  to  dinner  with  me.  We  have  a  new  club,  for 
actors  only,  and  we  have  the  best  roast  beef  in  town. 
We  make  a  specialty  of  a  substantial,  homelike  dinner. 
Come  right  along." 

The  club  rooms  were  over  a  saloon  on  the  west  side 
of  Broadway,  between  Thirty-first  and  Thirty-second 
streets.  The  two  went  up  to  the  room  and  sat  down. 
The  actor  ordered  dinner  for  two.  The  waiter  went 
away  and  Frohman's  spirits  began  to  rise. 

"It's  the  best  roast  beef  in  New  York,  I  tell  you," 
said  the  host,  by  way  of  an  appetizer. 

Then  the  waiter  reappeared,  but  not  with  the  food. 
He  was  visibly  embarrassed. 

"Sorry,  sir,"  he  said  to  the  comedian,  "but  the 
steward  tells  me  that  you  can't  have  dinner  to-night. 
He  says  you  were  posted  to-day,  and  that  you  can't 
be  served  again  until  everything  is  settled." 

Charles  used  to  tell  this  story  and  say  that  he  never 
had  such  an  appetite  for  roast  beef  as  he  did  when  he 
rose  from  that  club  table  to  go  out  again  into  Broadway. 

Frohman  was  always  interested  in  mechanical  things. 
When  the  phonograph  was  first  put  on  the  market  he 
had  one  in  his  office  at  112  7  Broadway.  Once  in  Lon- 
don he  found  a  mechanical  tiger  that  growled,  walked, 
and  even  clawed.  He  enjoyed  watching  it  crouch  and 
spring. 

He  took  it  with  him  on  the  steamer  back  to  New 

350 


HUMOR    AND    ANECDOTE 

York,  and  played  with  it  on  the  deck.  One  day  Richard 
Croker,  who  was  a  fellow-passenger,  came  along  and 
became  interested  in  the  toy,  whereupon  Frohman 
showed  him  how  it  worked. 

Frohman  told  of  this  episode  with  great  satisfaction. 
He  would  always  end  his  description  by  saying: 

"Fancy  showing  the  boss  of  Tammany  Hall  how  to 
work  a  tiger!" 

The  extraordinary  affinity  that  existed  between  Froh- 
man and  a  small  group  of  intimates  was  shown  by  an 
incident  that  occurred  on  shipboard.  He  and  Dilling- 
ham were  on  their  way  to  Europe.  They  were  playing 
checkers  in  the  smoking-room  when  an  impertinent, 
pushing  American  came  up  and  half  hung  himself  over 
the  table.  Frohman  said  nothing,  but  made  a  very 
ridiculous  move.  Dillingham  followed  suit. 
.  "What  chumps  you  are!"  said  the  interloper,  and 
went  away. 

Frohman  wanted  to  get  rid  of  the  man  without  say- 
ing anything.  This  was  his  way  of  doing  it,  and  it 
succeeded. 

Frohman  was  always  having  queer  adventures  out  of 
which  he  spun  the  most  amazing  yarns.  This  is  an  ex- 
perience that  he  liked  to  recount : 

When  Augustus  Thomas  had  an  apartment  in  Paris  he 
received  a  visit  from  Frohman.  The  fiat  was  five  flights 
up,  but  there  was  an  elevator  that  worked  by  pushing 
a  button. 

There  was  a  ring  at  the  bell  of  the  Thomas  apartment. 
When  the  playwright  opened  the  door  he  found  Frohman 
gasping  for  breath,  and  he  sank  exhausted  on  a  settee, 

351 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

''I  walked  up,"  he  managed  to  say.  When  he  was 
able  to  talk  Thomas  said  to  him: 

"Why  in  Heaven's  name  didn't  you  use  the  elevator?" 

Frohman  replied: 

"I  couldn't  make  the  woman  down-stairs  understand 
what  I  wanted.  She  made  motions  and  showed  me  a 
little  door,  but  I  thought  she  had  designs  on  my  life, 
so  I  preferred  to  walk." 

That  Charles  Frohman  had  the  happy  faculty  of  say- 
ing the  right  thing  and  saying  it  gracefully  is  well  illus- 
trated by  the  following: 

When  the  beautiful  Scala  Theater  in  London  was 
opened  it  made  such  a  sensation  that  Frohman  asked 
Lestocq  if  he  could  not  inspect  it.  The  proprietor,  Dr. 
Distin  Maddick,  being  an  old  friend  of  Lestocq,  the  latter 
called  informally  with  Frohman.  While  they  were  ad- 
miring the  white  stone  and  brass  interior,  Maddick  was 
suddenly  called  away.  He  returned  in  a  few  minutes 
to  say  that  a  manager  friend  from  Edinburgh,  hearing 
that  Frohman  was  in  the  theater,  had  come  in  and 
asked  to  be  introduced.  Of  course  Frohman  acquiesced. 
After  a  little  talk  the  gentleman  said: 

"We  have  no  beautiful  theater  like  this  in  Edin- 
burgh." 

Quickly  Frohman  replied,  with  his  fascinating  smile, 
"No,  but  you  have  Edinburgh." 

Frohman  hated  exercise.  In  this  he  had  a  great  com- 
munity of  interest  with  Mark  Twain. 

On  Sunday  mornings,  when  he  was  out  at  his  farm 
at  White  Plains,  he  would  read  all  the  dramatic  news  in 
the  papers,  and  then  he  searched  them  carefully  for  items 

352 


HUMOR    AND    ANECDOTE 

about  people  who  had  died  from  over-exertion.  When 
he  found  one  he  was  greatly  pleased,  and  always  sent 
it  to  Mark  Twain. 

In  order  to  get  him  to  exercise  Dillingham  once  took 
him  for  a  stroll  and  pretended  to  be  lost.  The  second 
time  he  tried  this,  however,  Frohman  discovered  the 
subterfuge  and  refused  to  go  walking. 

Frohman  could  pack  a  world  of  meaning  in  a  word  or 
a  sentence.  As  Sir  Herbert  Beerbohm  Tree  once  ex- 
pressed it,  ''he  was  witty  with  a  dry  form  of  humor  that 
takes  your  breath  away  with  its  suddenness."  He  gave 
an  example  of  this  with  Tree  one  day  in  London.  They 
were  discussing  French  plays  for  America.  The  ques- 
tion of  American  taste  came  up.  Frohman  described 
certain  primitive  effects  which  delighted  our  audiences. 

''Ah,"  said  Tree,  "America  can  stand  that  sort  of 
thing.     It  is  a  new  country." 

''WaSy''  came  the  laconic  reply. 

Frohman 's  retiring  disposition  and  dislike  for  putting 
himself  forward  was  one  of  his  chief  traits.  An  illus- 
tration occurred  when  he  controlled  the  Garden  Theater. 
It  was  during  the  presentation  of  Stephen  Phillips's  play 
' '  Ulysses. ' '  There  was  a  new  man  on  the  door  one  night 
when  Frohman  dropped  into  the  theater  for  a  few  min- 
utes' look  at  the  play.  The  doorkeeper  did  not  know 
the  producer,  his  own  employer,  and  would  not  allow 
him  to  enter  without  a  ticket.  Instead  of  storming 
about  the  lobby,  Frohman  simply  walked  quickly  out 
of  the  door,  around  to  the  stage  entrance  and  through 
the  theater.  At  the  end  of  the  act  he  walked  out  of  the 
main  entrance.     The  doorkeeper,  recognizing  him  as  the 

353 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

man  he  had  "turned  down,"  was  about  to  ask  him  how 
he  got  in  when  the  manager  of  the  house  interposed. 

He  liked  surprise  and  contrast.  On  one  occasion  his 
old  chum,  Anson  Pond,  wanted  to  talk  over  business 
matters  with  him. 

"Let's  go  to  a  quiet  place,"  said  Frohman. 

They  went  to  a  Childs  restaurant.  Before  their 
luncheon  was  served  an  intoxicated  man  came  in,  or- 
dered a  plate  of  beans,  and  then  exploded  a  package  of 
fire-crackers  on  it. 

When  he  went  to  pay  his  check  Frohman 's  comment 
was: 

"I  didn't  know  they  had  changed  the  date  of  the 
Fourth  of  July." 

No  other  theatrical  manager  in  New  York  had  a 
better  new^s  sense  than  Frohman.  He  knew  just  what  a 
paper  wanted,  and  all  the  matter  sent  out  from  his 
offices  was  short,  news}^  and  direct.  He  knew  how  to 
shape  a  big  "story,"  and  could  offhand  dictate  an  inter- 
view that  was  all  "meat."  While  he  had  little  time  in 
New  York  to  greet  newspaper  men  personally,  he  was 
especially  cordial  to  all  that  came  to  see  him  on  the  road. 
He  never  went  out  of  town  without  visiting  some  of  the 
older  critics  he  had  known  throughout  his  career,  men 
like  George  P.  Goodale  of  The  Detroit  Free  Press,  and 
Montgomery  Phister  of  The  Commercial  Tribune  in 
Cincinnati.  When  in  Baltimore  he  invariably  gave  an 
hour  for  a  long  interview  to  Walter  E.  McCann,  the 
critic  of  The  News  of  that  city. 

Frohman  knew  a  newspaper's  wants  and  limitations 
as  far  as  theatrical  matter  was  concerned.     He  knew 

354 


HUMOR    AND    ANECDOTE 

just  how  far  his  press  representative  could  be  expected 
to  go,  and  what  his  obstacles  were. 

On  one  occasion  in  Cleveland,  when  he  was  producing 
a  play  by  Clyde  Fitch  for  the  late  Clara  Bloodgood,  the 
chief  press  representative  from  the  New  York  office 
was  taken  along  to  look  after  the  work.  The  press  agent 
sent  stories  to  all  of  the  papers  for  Saturday  morning's 
publication,  and  to  his  dismay  not  a  line  was  used. 
Feeling  that  Frohman  would  be  hurt  about  it  (for  Charles 
was  hurt  and  not  angered  by  the  failure  of  any  of  his 
men),  he  wrote  a  note  to  his  chief,  stating  that  he  was 
sorry  nothing  had  been  used  in  print  and  did  not  under- 
stand it. 

At  lunch  that  day  Frohman  remarked  to  the  agent: 
"Why  did  you  send  me  that  note  about  the  papers?" 
"Because,"  replied  the  young  man,   "I  feared  that 
you  would  think  I  had  not  attended  to  my  work." 

"Well,"  said  Frohman,  "you  sent  matter  to  all  the 
papers,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  agent,  "all  of  them,  of  course." 
"Then,"   said  the  manager,    "what  else  could  you 
do  ?     You  are  not  running  the  papers. ' ' 

It  was  not  only  an  evidence  of  Frohman 's  fairness, 
but  an  instance  of  his  knowledge  of  newspapers. 

Frohman  had  a  remarkable  memory.  One  night  dur- 
ing Collier's  London  engagement  he  asked  the  actor 
to  meet  him  at  the  Savoy  the  next  morning  at  nine  o'clock. 
Collier,  who  had  been  playing  bridge  until  dawn,  showed 
up  at  the  appointed  time,  whereupon  Frohman  said: 

"How  did  you  do  it?" 

"I  sat  up  for  it,"  said  Collier. 

Five  years  later  Frohman  asked  Collier  one  night  to 

355 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

meet  him  at  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning.     Then  he 
added,  quickly: 

*'You  can  sit  up  for  it." 

Frohman  got  much  amusement  out  of  a  butler  named 
Max  who  was  employed  at  his  house  at  White  Plains. 
One  of  the  most  original  episodes  in  which  this  man 
figured  happened  on  the  opening  night  of  ''Catherine" 
at  the  Garrick  Theater. 

The  play  was  a  little  thin,  and  the  whole  action  de- 
pended on  a  love  scene  in  the  third  act,  in  which  the 
hero,  a  young  swell  played  by  J.  M.  Holland,  on  telling 
his  mother  that  he  loved  a  humble  girl,  gets  the  unex- 
pected admonition  to  go  and  be  happy  with  her.  Dil- 
lingham had  two  seats  well  down  in  the  orchestra. 
Frohman  was  to  sit  in  the  back  of  a  box.  Just  before 
the  curtain  went  up  Frohman  said  to  Dillingham,  who 
then  had  a  house  on  Twenty-fourth  Street,  "Let  us 
have  some  of  those  nice  little  lamb  chops  and  peas  down 
at  your  house  after  the  play." 

"All  right,"  said  Dillingham,  and  he  telephoned  the 
instructions  to  Max,  who  had  been  drafted  for  town 
service. 

The  curtain  went  up,  the  first  two  acts  w^ent  off  all 
right,  and  the  house  was  dark  for  the  third  act.  The 
seat  alongside  Dillingham  was  vacated,  so  Frohman 
came  down  and  occupied  it.  The  curtain  went  up  and 
the  action  of  the  play  progressed.  The  great  scene 
which  was  to  carry  it  was  about  to  begin  when  Dilling- 
ham heard  a  loud  thump,  thump,  thump  down  the 
aisle.     Frohman  turned  to  Dillingham  and  said: 

"What  in  the  name  of  Heaven  is  that?  The  play  is 
ruined!" 

356 


-       HUMOR    AND    ANECDOTE 

The  thump,  thump,  thump  continued,  coming  nearer. 
Just  in  the  middle  of  the  act  a  German  voice  spoke  up 
and  said: 

''Oxkuse  me,  Meester  DilHngham,  dere  ain't  a  lam' 
chop  in  der  house." 

It  was  Max,  the  butler,  who,  worried  over  what  seemed 
the  imminent  failure  of  the  midnight  repast,  had  come 
to  report  to  headquarters  for  further  instructions. 
Fortunately  the  interruption  passed  unnoticed  and  the 
play  made  quite  a  hit. 

On  one  occasion  Nat  C.  Goodwin  invited  him  to  the 
Goodwin  residence  in  West  End  Avenue,  New  York. 
The  comedian  wanted  to  place  himself  under  the  man- 
agement of  his  guest.  Goodwin  stated  the  case,  and 
Frohman  then  asked  how  remunerative  his  last  season 
had  been.  The  host  produced  his  books.  After  a  care- 
ful examination  Frohman  remarked,  with  a  smile: 

**My  dear  boy,  you  don't  require  a  manager.  What 
you  need  is  a  lawyer." 


XVIII 

THE   MAN   FROHMAN 

y^^  REAT  as  producer,  star-maker,  and  conqueror  of 
f  jr  two  stage- worlds,  Charles  Frohman  was  greater  as 
a  human  being.  Like  Roosevelt,  whom  he  greatly 
admired,  he  was  more  than  a  man — ^he  was  an  institution. 
His  quiet  courage,  his  unaffected  simplicity,  his  rare 
understanding,  his  ripe  philosophy,  his  uncanny  pene- 
tration— above  all,  his  abundant  humor — made  him  a 
figure  of  fascinating  and  incessant  interest. 

No  trait  of  Charles  Frohman  was  more  highly  devel- 
oped than  his  shyness.  He  was  known  as  ''The  Great 
Unphotographed."  The  only  time  during  the  last 
twenty -five  years  of  his  life  that  he  sat  for  a  photograph 
was  when  he  had  to  get  a  picture  for  his  passport,  and 
this  picture  went  to  a  watery  grave  with  him.  Behind 
his  prejudice  against  being  photographed  was  a  per- 
fectly definite  reason,  which  he  once  explained  as 
follows : 

''I  once  knew  a  theatrical  manager  whose  prospects 
were  very  bright.  He  became  a  victim  of  the  camera. 
Fine  pictures  of  him  were  made  and  stuck  up  on  the 
walls  everywhere.  He  used  to  spend  more  time  look- 
ing at  these  pictures  of  himself  than  he  did  attending 
to  his  business.  He  made  a  miserable  failure.  I  was 
quite  a  young  man  when  I  heard  of  this,  but  it  made  a 

358 


THE    MAN    FROHMAN 

great  impression  on  me.  I  resolved  then  never  to  have 
my  photograph  taken  if  I  could  help  it." 

Once  when  Frohman  and  A.  L.  Erlanger  were  in  Lon- 
don he  received  the  usual  request  to  be  photographed 
by  a  newspaper  camera  man.  The  two  magnates  looked 
something  alike  in  that  they  had  a  more  or  less  Napo- 
leonic cast  of  face.  Frohman,  who  always  saw  a  joke 
in  everything,  hatched  a  scheme  by  which  Erlanger  was 
to  be  photographed  for  him.  The  plan  worked  admi- 
rably, and  pictures  of  Erlanger  suddenly  began  to  ap- 
pear all  over  London  labeled  *' Charles  Frohman." 

He  could  be  gracious,  however,  in  his  refusal  to  be 
photographed.  One  bright  afternoon  he  was  watching 
the  races  at  Henley  when  he  was  approached  by  R.  W. 
MacFarlane,  of  New  York,  who  had  been  on  the  Froh- 
man staff.  MacFarlane  asked  if  he  could  take  a  photo- 
graph of  Frohman  and  give  it  to  his  niece,  who  was 
traveling  with  him. 

"No,"  said  the  manager,  "but  you  can  take  a  picture 
of  your  niece  and  I  will  pose  her  for  it." 

Frohman 's  shyness  led  to  what  is  in  many  respects 
the  most  remarkable  of  the  countless  anecdotes  about 
him.  It  grew  out  of  his  illness.  In  19 13  he  had  a 
severe  attack  of  neuritis  in  London.  Although  his 
friends  urged  him  to  go  and  see  a  doctor,  he  steadfastly 
refused.  He  dreaded  physicians  just  as  he  dreaded 
photographers. 

One  day  Barrie  came  to  see  him  at  his  rooms  at  the 
Savoy.  Frohman  was  in  such  intense  pain  that  the 
Scotch  author  said: 

"Frohman,  it  is  absurd  for  you  not  to  see  a  doctor. 
You  simply  must  have  medical  attention.     As  a  matter 

359 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

of  fact,  I  have  already  made  an  engagement  for  you  to 
see  Robson-Roose,  the  great  nerve  specialist,  at  four 
o'clock  to-morrow  afternoon." 

Frohman,  who  accepted  whatever  Barrie  said,  ac- 
quiesced. Next  day,  when  half-past  three  o'clock  came, 
the  manager  was  almost  in  a  state  of  panic.  He  said  to 
Dillingham,  who  was  with  him: 

' '  Dillingham,  you  know  how  I  hate  to  go  to  see  doctors. 
You  also  know  what  is  the  matter  with  me.  Why  don't 
you  go  as  my  understudy  and  tell  the  doctor  what  is 
the  matter  with  you?  He  will  give  you  a  nice  little 
prescription  or  advise  you  to  go  to  the  Riviera  or  Carls- 
bad." 

*'A11  right,"  said  Dillingham,  who  adored  his  friend. 
"I'll  do  what  you  say." 

Promptly  at  four  o'clock  Dillingham  showed  up  at 
the  great  specialist's  office  and  said  he  was  Frohman. 
He  underwent  a  drastic  cross-examination.  After  which 
he  was  asked  to  remove  his  clothes,  was  subjected  to 
the  most  strenuous  massage  treatment,  and,  to  cap  it 
all,  was  given  an  electric  bath  that  reduced  him  almost 
to  a  wreck.  He  had  entered  the  doctor's  office  in  the 
best  of  health.     He  emerged  from  it  worn  and  weary. 

When  he  staggered  into  Frohman 's  rooms  two  hours 
later  and  told  his  tale  of  woe,  Frohman  laughed  so 
heartily  over  the  episode  that  he  was  a  well  man  the 
next  day. 

Frohman  had  a  great  fund  of  pithy  sayings,  remark- 
able for  their  brevity.  With  these  he  indicated  his 
wishes  to  his  associates.  His  charm  of  manner,  his 
quick  insight  into  a  situation,  and  his  influence  over 
the  minds  of  others  were  great  factors  in  the  accomplish- 

360 


THE    MAN    FROHMAN 

ment  of  his  end,  often  attaining  the  obviously  im- 
possible. 

For  example,  when  he  would  tell  his  business  manager 
to  negotiate  a  business  matter  with  a  man,  and  it  would 
come  to  a  point  where  there  would  be  a  deadlock,  he 
would  say : 

' '  I  will  see  him.     Ask  him  to  come  down  to  my  hotel. 

The  next  morning  he  would  walk  into  the  office  with 
a  smile  on  his  face,  and  the  first  thing  he  would  say 
perhaps  would  be: 

"I  fixed  it  up  all  right  yesterday;  it  is  going  your 
way." 

''You  are  a  wonder!"  his  associates  would  exclaim. 

"Oh  no !     I  just  talked  to  him,"  was  the  reply. 

Frohman  disliked  formality.  He  wanted  to  go 
straight  to  the  heart  of  a  thing  and  have  it  over  with. 
Somebody  once  asked  him  why  he  did  not  join  the 
Masonic  order.     He  said: 

"I  would  like  to  very  much  if  I  could  just  write  a 
check  and  not  bother  with  all  the  ceremony." 

Although  he  never  spoke  of  his  great  power  in  the 
profession,  occasionally  there  was  a  glimpse  of  how  he 
felt  about  it  as  this  incident  shows: 

Once,  when  Frohman  and  Paul  Potter  were  coming 
back  from  Atlantic  City,  Potter  picked  up  a  theatrical 
paper  and  said : 

"Shall  I  read  you  the  theatrical  news?" 

"No,"  said  Frohman.     "I  make  theatrical  news." 

In  that  supreme  test  of  a  man's  character- — his  atti- 
tude toward  money — he  shone.     Though  his  enterprises 
24  361 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

involved  millions,  Frohman  had  an  extraordinary  dis- 
regard of  money.  He  felt  its  power,  but  he  never 
idolized  it.  To  him  it  was  a  means  to  an  end.  He 
summed  up  his  whole  attitude  one  day  when  he  said: 

''My  work  is  to  produce  plays  that  succeed,  so  that 
I  can  produce  plays  that  will  not  succeed.  That  is 
why  I  must  have  money. 

"What  I  would  really  like  to  do  is  to  produce  a  won- 
derful something  to  which  I  would  only  go  myself. 
My  pleasure  would  be  in  seeing  a  remarkable  perform- 
ance that  nobody  else  could  see.  But  I  can't  do  that. 
The  next  best  thing  is  to  produce  something  for  the  few 
critical  people.  That  is  what  I'm  trying  for.  I  have 
to  work  through  the  commercial — it  is  the  white  heat 
through  which  the  artistic  in  me  has  to  come."  It  was 
his  answer  to  the  oft-made  charge  of  "commercialism." 

No  one,  perhaps,  has  summed  up  this  money  attitude 
of  Frohman 's  better  than  George  Bernard  Shaw,  who 
said  of  him: 

"There  is  a  prevalent  impression  that  Charles  Froh- 
man is  a  hard-headed  American  man  of  business  who 
w^ould  not  look  at  anything  that  is  not  likely  to  pay. 
On  the  contrary,  he  is  the  most  wildly  romantic  and 
adventurous  man  of  my  acquaintance.  As  Charles  XII. 
became  an  excellent  soldier  because  of  his  passion  for 
putting  himself  in  the  way  of  being  killed,  so  Charles 
Frohman  became  a  famous  manager  through  his  passion 
for  putting  himself  in  the  way  of  being  ruined." 

In  many  respects  Frohman 's  feeling  about  money  was 
almost  childlike.  He  left  all  financial  details  to  his  sub- 
ordinates. All  he  wanted  to  do  w^as  to  produce  plays 
and  be  let  alone.  Yet  he  had  an  infinite  respect  for 
the  man  to  whom  he  had  to  pay  a  large  sum.     He  felt 

362 


THE    MAN    FROHMAN 

that  the  actor  or  author  who  could  command  it  was 
invested  with  pecuHar  significance.  Upon  himself  he 
spent  little.     He  once  said: 

"All  I  want  is  a  good  meal,  a  good  cigar,  good  clothes, 
a  good  bed  to  sleep  in,  and  freedom  to  produce  whatever 
plays  I  like." 

He  was  a  magnificent  loser.  Failure  never  disturbed 
him.  When  he  saw  that  a  piece  was  doomed  he  indulged 
in  no  obituary  talk.  ''Let's  go  to  the  next,"  he  said, 
and  on  he  went. 

He  lost  in  the  same  princely  way  that  he  spent.  The 
case  of  "Thermidor"  will  illustrate.  He  spent  not  less 
than  thirty  thousand  dollars  on  this  production.  Yet 
the  moment  the  curtain  went  down  he  realized  it  was  a 
failure.  He  stood  at  one  side  of  the  wings  and  Miss 
Marbury,  who  had  induced  him  to  put  the  play  on,  was 
at  the  other.  With  the  fall  of  the  curtain  Frohman 
moved  smilingly  among  his  actors  with  no  trace  of  dis- 
appointment on  his  face.  But  when  he  met  Miss  Mar- 
bury  on  the  other  side  of  the  stage  he  said: 

"Well,  I  suppose  we  have  got  a  magnificent  frost. 
We'll  just  write  this  off  and  forget  it." 

Frohman  played  with  the  theater  as  if  it  were  a  huge 
game.  Like  life  itself,  it  was  a  great  adventure.  In  the 
parlance  of  Wall  Street,  he  was  a '  *  bull, ' '  for  he  was  always 
raising  salaries  and  royalties.    Somebody  once  said  of  him : 

"What  a  shame  that  Frohman  works  so  hard!  He 
never  had  a  day's  fun  in  his  life." 

"You  are  very  much  mistaken,"  said  one  of  his 
friends.  "His  whole  life  is  full  of  it.  He  gets  his  chief 
fun  out  of  his  work."  Indeed,  work  and  humor  were 
in  reality  the  great  things  with  him. 

363 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

One  of  the  best  epigrams  ever  made  about  Frohman's 
extravagance  was  this: 

' '  Give  Charles  Frohman  a  check-book  and  he  will  lose 
money  on  any  production." 

To  say  that  his  word  was  his  bond  is  to  repeat  one 
of  the  trite  tributes  to  him.  But  it  was  nevertheless 
very  true.  Often  in  discussing  a  business  arrangement 
with  his  representatives  he  would  say: 

''Did  I  say  that?"  On  being  told  that  he  did,  he 
would  invariably  reply,  ''Then  it  must  stand  at  that." 

On  one  of  these  occasions  he  said: 

"I  have  only  one  thing  of  value  to  me,  and  that  is 
my  word.  I  will  keep  that  until  I  am  broke  and  then 
I'll  jump  overboard." 

In  starting  a  new  venture  his  method  was  first  to 
ascertain  not  how  much  it  would  enrich  him,  but  how 
much  it  would  cost.  Thus  fortified,  he  entered  into  it 
with  enthusiasm,  and  if  he  lost  he  never  murmured. 
Having  settled  a  thing,  for  good  or  ill,  he  would  never 
refer  to  the  negotiations  or  anything  that  might  have 
led  up  to  the  culmination  of  that  business,  either  for  or 
against.  If  his  attention  was  afterward  called  to  it,  he 
would  quietly  say,  "That's  yesterday,"  and  in  this 
way  indicate  that  he  did  not  wish  the  matter  referred 
to  again. 

Frohman's  great  desire  was  to  make  money  for  other 
people.  One  of  his  young  authors  had  had  a  bad  fail- 
ure in  London  and  was  very  much  depressed.  Frohman 
finally  worked  out  a  plan  to  revive  his  spirits  and  recoup 
his  finances.  He  took  Alfred  Sutro  in  his  confidence 
and  invited  the  young  man  to  dine.     He  was  like  a  child, 

364 


THE    MAN    FROHMAN 

eager  to  do  something  good  and  pleasing.  All  through 
the  dinner  he  chaffed  the  young  man,  who  visibly  grew 
more  despondent.     Finally  he  said : 

*'I  have  decided  to  revive  a  very  good  play,  and  I 
have  booked  an  American  tour  for  it."  Then  he  told 
the  young  man  that  this  play  was  his  first  success. 

Charles  Frohman's  ignorance  of  money  matters  was 
proverbial.  One  day  just  as  he  was  about  to  take  the 
train  for  Washington  a  friend  stopped  him  and  said: 

"I've  got  a  great  investment  for  you." 

''No,"  said  Frohman,  *'I  never  invest  in  anything 
except  theaters." 

''But  this  is  the  real  thing.  The  only  possible  fact 
that  can  spoil  it  is  war,  and  w^e  are  widely  remote  from 
war." 

In  order  to  get  rid  of  the  man  Frohman  consented  to 
a  modest  investment.  When  he  got  to  Washington  the 
first  thing  that  greeted  him  was  the  announcement  that 
we  were  on  the  verge  of  war  with  Mexico. 

William  Harris  once  gently  remonstrated  with  Froh- 
man for  such  lavish  expenditure  of  money. 

"It's  simply  awful,  Charley,  the  way  you  spend 
money,"  he  said. 

Frohman  smiled  and  said: 

"It  would  be  awful  if  I  lost  a  finger  or  a  foot,  but 
spending  money  on  the  things  that  you  want  to  do 
and  enjoy  doing  is  never  money  wasted." 

At  one  time  he  owed  a  great  deal  of  money  to  actors 
and  printers,  but  he  always  scorned  all  suggestions  that 
he  go  through  bankruptcy  and  wipe  these  claims  out. 

365 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

He  said  he  would  pay  in  full  some  day,  and  he  did,  with 
interest.  An  actor  to  whom  he  owed  some  four  hundred 
dollars  came  to  him  and  offered  to  settle  the  claim  for 
one  hundred  dollars.  Frohman  said  he  did  not  believe 
in  taking  advantage  of  a  man  like  that.  He  advanced 
the  actor  one  hundred  dollars,  and  eventually  paid  the 
other  three  hundred  dollars. 

Like  every  great  man,  Frohman 's  tastes  were  simple. 
He  always  wore  clothes  of  one  pattern,  and  the  style 
seldom  varied.  He  wore  no  jewelry  except  a  Napoleonic 
ring  on  his  little  finger. 

Frohman  never  married.  A  friend  once  asked  him 
why  he  had  chosen  to  be  a  bachelor. 

''My  dear  fellow,"  he  answered,  "had  I  possessed  a 
wife  and  family  I  could  never  have  taken  the  risks 
which,  as  a  theatrical  manager,  I  am  constantly  called 
upon  to  do." 

He  lived,  in  truth,  for  and  by  the  theater;  it  was  his 
world.  His  heart  was  in  his  profession,  and  no  enter- 
prise was  too  daring,  no  venture  too  perilous,  to  prevent 
him  from  boldly  facing  it  if  he  believed  the  step  was 
expected  of  him. 

To  his  intimates  Frohman  was  always  known  as 
"C.  F.'*  These  were  the  magic  initials  that  opened  or 
shut  the  doors  to  theatrical  fame  and  fortune. 

Frohman  loved  sweet  things  to  eat.  Pies  were  his 
particular  fondness,  and  he  never  traveled  without  a 
box  of  candy.  As  he  read  plays  he  munched  choco- 
lates.    He  ate  with  a  sort  of  Johnsonian  avidity.     When 

366 


I 


THE    MAN    FROHMAN 

he  went  to  Europe  some  of  his  friends,  who  knew  his 
tastes  well,  sent  him  crates  of  pies  instead  of  flowers 
or  books. 

He  shared  this  fondness  for  sweets  with  Clyde  Fitch. 
They  did  not  dare  to  eat  as  much  pastry  as  they  liked 
before  others,  so  they  often  retired  to  Frohman's  rooms 
at  Sherry's  or  to  Fitch's  house  on  Fortieth  Street,  in 
New  York,  and  had  a  dessert  orgy. 

Frohman  almost  invariably  ate  as  he  worked  in  his 
oflice.  When  people  saw  sandwiches  piled  upon  his 
table,  he  would  say: 

"A  rehearsal  accompanied  by  a  sandwich  is  progress, 
but  a  rehearsal  interrupted  by  a  meal  is  delay." 

Frohman's  letters  to  his  intimates  were  characteristic. 
He  always  wrote  them  with  a  blue  pencil,  and  on  what- 
ever scrap  of  paper  happened  to  be  at  hand.  Often  it 
was  a  sheet  of  yellow  scratch-paper,  sometimes  the  back 
of  an  envelope.  He  wrote  as  he  talked,  in  quick,  epi- 
grammatic sentences.  Like  Barrie,  he  wrote  one  of  the 
most  indecipherable  of  hands.  Frequently,  instead  of  a 
note,  he  drew  a  picture  to  express  a  sentiment  or  convey 
an  invitation.  One  reason  for  this  was  that  the  man 
saw  all  life  in  terms  of  the  theater.  It  was  a  series  of 
scenes. 

With  regard  to  home  life,  Frohman  had  none.  He 
always  dwelt  in  apartments  in  New  York.  The  only 
two  places  where  he  really  relaxed  were  at  Marlow,  in 
England,  and  at  his  country  place  near  White  Plains 
in  Westchester  County,  New  York.  He  shared  the 
ownership  of  this  estabUshment  with  Dillingham.  It 
entered  largely  into  his  plans.     Here  his  few  intimates, 

367 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

like  Paul  Potter,  Haddon  Chambers,  William  Gillette, 
and  Augustus  Thomas,  came  and  talked  over  plays  and 
productions.  Here,  too,  he  kept  vigil  on  the  snowy 
night  when  London  was  to  pass  judgment  on  the  first 
production  of  ''Peter  Pan"  on  any  stage. 

The  way  he  came  to  acquire  an  interest  in  the  White 
Plains  house  is  typical  of  the  man  and  his  methods. 
Dillingham  had  bought  the  place.  One  day  Frohman 
and  Gillette  lunched  with  him  there.  Frohman  was 
immensely  taken  with  the  establishment.  He  liked  the 
lawn,  the  garden,  the  trees,  and  the  aloofness.  The 
three  men  sat  at  a  round  table.  Frohman  beamed  and 
said: 

''This  is  the  place  for  me.  I  want  to  sit  at  the  head 
of  this  table."  It  was  his  way  of  saying  that  he  wanted 
to  acquire  an  ownership  in  it,  and  from  that  time  on 
he  was  a  co-proprietor. 

With  characteristic  generosity  he  insisted  upon  pay- 
ing two-thirds  of  the  expenses.  Then,  in  his  usual  lavish 
fashion,  he  had  it  remodeled.  He  wanted  a  porch  built. 
Instead  of  engaging  the  village  carpenter,  who  could 
have  done  it  very  well,  he  employed  the  most  famous 
architects  in  the  country  and  spent  thirty  thousand 
dollars.     It  was  the  Frohman  way. 

Out  of  the  Frohman  ownership  of  the  White  Plains 
house  came  one  of  the  many  Frohman  jests.  Its  con- 
duct was  so  expensive  that  Frohman  one  day  said  to 
Dillingham,  "Let's  rent  a  theater  and  make  it  pay  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  house." 

Frohman  then  leased  the  Garrick,  but  instead  of 
making  money  on  it  he  lost  heavily. 

The  factotum  at  White  Plains  was  the  German  Max, 
vv^hom  Dillingham  had  brought  over  from  the  Savoy  in 

368 


THE    MAN    FROHMAN 

London,  where  he  was  a  waiter.  Max  became  the  center 
of  many  amusing  incidents.  One  has  already  been 
related. 

One  night  Max  secured  some  fine  watermelons.  As  he 
came  through  the  door  with  one  of  them  he  slipped  and 
dropped  it.  He  repeated  this  performance  with  the 
second  melon.  Frohman  regarded  it  as  a  great  joke, 
and  roared  with  laughter.  Just  then  Gillette  was  an- 
nounced. 

''Now,"  said  Frohman,  quietly,  to  Dillingham,  "we 
will  have  Max  bring  in  a  watermelon,  but  I  want  him 
to  drop  it."  In  order  to  insure  the  success  of  the  trick 
they  stretched  a  string  at  the  door  so  that  Max  would 
be  sure  to  fall.  Then  they  ordered  the  melon,  and 
Max  appeared,  bearing  it  aloft.  He  fell,  however,  be- 
fore he  got  to  the  string,  and  the  joke  was  saved. 

All  this  jest  and  joke  was  part  of  the  game  of  life 
as  Frohman  played  it.  Whatever  the  cost,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  charming  white-and-green  cottage  up 
in  the  Westchester  valley  gave  him  hours  of  relaxation 
and  ease  that  were  among  the  pleasantest  of  his  life. 

This  house  at  White  Plains  was  indirectly  the  means 
through  which  Dillingham  branched  out  as  an  indepen- 
dent manager.  At  this  time  he  was  in  Frohman 's  em- 
ploy.    One  day  he  said  to  himself : 

''This  establishment  is  costing  so  much  that  I  will 
have  to  send  out  some  companies  of  my  own." 

He  thereupon  got  "The  Red  Mill,"  acquired  Mont- 
gomery and  Stone,  and  thus  began  a  new  and  brilliant 
managerial  career.  No  one  rejoiced  over  Dillingham's 
success  more  than  Frohman.  When  Dillingham  opened 
his  Globe  Theater  in  New  York  Frohman  addressed  a 
cable  to  "Charles  Dillingham,  Globe  Theater,  U.  S.  A." 

369 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

It  is  a  curious  fact  about  Charles  Frohman  that 
though  he  had  millions  of  dollars  at  stake,  he  was  never 
a  defendant  in  litigation.  Yet  through  him  foreign 
authors  were  enabled  to  protect  their  plays  from  the 
customary  piracy  by  the  memorization  of  parts.  It 
used  to  be  accepted  that  if  a  man  went  to  a  play  and 
memorized  its  speeches  he  could  produce  it  without 
paying  royalty.  N.  S.  Wood  did  this  with  a  play  called 
"The  World,"  that  Frohman  produced.  He  took  the 
matter  to  court  as  a  test  case  and  won. 

Charles  was  not  good  at  remembering  people's  names 
or  their  addresses.  This  is  why  he  was  much  dependent 
upon  his  stenographers.  His  secretary  in  England,  Miss 
Frances  Slater;  was  so  extraordinary  in  anticipating  his 
words  that  he  always  called  her  ''The  Wonder."  He 
used  to  say: 

"Miss  Slater,  I  want  to  write  to  the  man  around  the 
corner,"  which  turned  out  to  be  Arthur  Boucher,  the 
manager  of  the  Garrick  Theater,  which  was  not  really 
around  the  corner;  but  when  the  subject  of  the  letter 
came  to  be  dictated.  Miss  Slater  knew  whom  he  meant. 
He  would  never  express  any  surprise  on  these  occasions 
when  the  letter  handed  him  to  sign  contained  the  right 
name  and  address.  He  seemed  to  take  it  as  a  matter 
of  course. 

One  day  Frohman  entered  his  London  office  and  said 
to  Lestocq: 

"You  would  never  guess  where  I  have  just  come  from. 
I  have  been  to  your  Westminster  Abbey." 

Lestocq  expressed  surprise,  whereupon  Frohman  con- 
tinued : 

370 


THE    MAN    FROHMAN 

''Yes,  I  just  walked  in  and  spoke  to  a  man  in  a  gown 
and  said,  'Where  is  Mr.  Irving  buried?'  He  showed  me, 
and  I  stood  there  for  a  few  minutes,  said  a  couple  of 
things,  and  came  on  here." 

Frohman's  office  at  the  Empire  Theater  was  charac- 
teristic of  the  man  himself.  It  was  a  room  of  con- 
siderable proportions,  with  the  atmosphere  of  a  study. 
It  was  lined  with  rather  low  book-shelves,  on  which 
stood  the  bound  copies  of  the  plays  he  had  produced. 
Interspersed  was  a  complete  set  of  Lincoln's  speeches 
and  letters. 

On  one  side  was  a  large  stone  fireplace;  in  a  corner 
stood  a  grand  piano;  the  center  was  dominated  by  a 
simple,  flat- topped  desk,  across  which  much  of  the 
traffic  of  the  American  theater  passed. 

Near  at  hand  was  a  low  and  luxurious  couch.  Here 
Frohman  sat  cross-legged  and  listened  to  plays.  This 
performance  was  a  sort  of  sacred  rite,  and  was  always 
observed  behind  locked  doors.  No  Frohman  employee 
would  think  of  intruding  upon  his  chief  at  such  a 
time. 

Here,  as  in  London,  Frohman  was  surrounded  by 
pictures  of  his  stars.  Dominating  them  was  J.  W. 
Alexander's  fine  painting  of  Miss  Adams  in  "L'Aiglon." 
On  a  shelf  stood  a  bust  of  John  Drew.  There  were  por- 
traits of  playwrights,  too.  A  photograph  of  Clyde 
Fitch  had  this  inscription: 

"ToC.  F.  fromc.  f." 

There  was  only  one  real  art  object  in  the  office,  a 
magnificent  marble  bust  of  Napoleon,  whom  Frohman 
greatly  admired.  He  was  always  pleased  when  he  was 
told  that  he  looked  like  the  Man  of  Destiny. 

371 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

His  sense  of  personal  modesty  was  a  very  genuine 
thing.  Shortly  before  he  sailed  on  the  fatal  trip  he  had 
a  request  from  a  magazine  writer  who  wanted  to  write 
the  story  of  his  life.  He  sent  back  a  vigorous  refusal 
to  co-operate,  saying,  among  other  things: 

''It  is  most  obnoxious  to  me  in  every  way.  It  is 
forcing  oneself  on  the  public  so  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
and  I  don't  want  that,  and,  besides,  they  are  not  in- 
terested. It  is  only  for  the  great  men  of  our  country. 
It  is  not  for  me.  It  looks  like  cheek  and  presumption 
on  my  part,  because  it  is,  and  I  ask  you  not  to  go  on 
with  it." 

He  believed  in  system.  One  day  he  said: 
"We  must  have  on  file  in  our  office  the  complete 
record  of  every  first-class  theater  in  the  United  States, 
together  with  the  name  of  every  dramatic  editor  and 
bill-poster."  Out  of  this  grew  the  famous  ''Theatrical 
Guide"  compiled  by  Julius  Cahn. 

Charles  always  provided  special  sleepers  for  his  com- 
pany when  they  had  to  leave  early  in  the  morning. 
He  felt  that  it  was  an  imposition  to  make  the  people 
go  to  bed  late  after  a  play  and  rise  at  five  or  six  to  get 
a  train.  It  not  only  expressed  his  kindness,  but  also 
his  good  business  sense  in  keeping  his  people  satisfied 
and  efficient. 

One  of  Frohman's  eccentricities  was  that  he  never 
carried  a  watch.  On  being  asked  why  he  never  carried 
a  timepiece,  he  replied,  tersely,  "Everybody  else  carries 
a  watch,"  meaning  that  if  he  wanted  to  find  out  the 
time  of  day  he  could  do  it  more  quickly  by  inquiring 

372 


THE    MAN    FROHMAN 

of  his  personal  or  business  associates  than  by  looking 
for  a  watch  that  he  may  have  forgotten  to  wind  up. 

''Frohman,"  said  a  friend,  "made  it  a  rule  in  life  not 
to  do  anything  that  he  could  hire  somebody  else  to  do, 
thus  leaving  himself  all  the  time  possible  for  those  things 
that  he  alone  could  do.  He  probably  figured  it  out  that 
if  he  carried  a  watch  he  would  be  obliged  to  spend  a 
certain  amount  of  time  each  day  winding  it. 

"And  on  the  same  principle  he  refused  to  worry  as 
to  whether  he  left  his  umbrella  behind  or  not,  by  simply 
not  carrying  one.  If  he  couldn't  get  a  cab — a  rare 
occurrence,  doubtless,  considering  the  beaten  track  of 
his  travel — he  preferred  to  walk  in  the  rain." 

Some  time  before  his  death  Frohman  said  to  a  dis- 
tinguished dramatist  who  is  one  of  his  closest  friends: 

"Whenever  I  make  a  rule  I  never  violate  it." 

A  visitor  to  his  place  at  White  Plains  came  away 
after  spending  a  night  there,  and  declared  that  the  "real 
Charles  Frohman  had  three  dissipations — he  smokes 
all  day,  he  reads  plays  all  night,  and — "     He  stopped. 

"What  is  it?"  was  the  breathless  query. 

"He  plays  croquet." 

Frohman  had  a  rare  gift  for  publicity.  More  than 
once  he  turned  what  seemed  to  be  a  complete  failure 
into  success.  An  experience  with  "Jane"  will  reveal 
this  side  of  his  versatility. 

The  bright  little  comedy  hung  fire  for  a  while.  One 
reason  was  that  newspaper  criticism  in  New  York  had 
been  rather  unfavorable.  Conspicuous  among  the  un- 
friendly notices  was  one  in  the  Herald  which  was  headed, 
"Jane  Won't  Go." 

Frohman  immediately  capitalized  this  line.     He  had 

373 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

thousands   of   dodgers   stuck   up   all   over   New  York. 
They  contained  three  sentences,  which  read: 

'^ Jane  won't  go.'' 
Of  course  not. 
She's  come  to  stay. 

From  that  time  on  the  piece  grew  in  popularity  and 
receipts  and  became  a  success. 

In  summing  up  the  qualities  that  made  Frohman 
great,  one  finds,  in  the  last  analysis,  that  he  had  two  in 
common  with  J.  P.  Morgan  and  the  other  dynamic 
leaders  of  men.  One  was  an  incisive,  almost  uncanny, 
ability  to  probe  into  the  hearts  of  men,  strip  away  the 
superficial,  and  find  the  real  substance. 

His  experience  with  Clyde  Fitch  emphasized  this  to 
a  remarkable  degree.  Personally  no  two  men  could 
have  been  more  opposite.  One  was  the  product  of 
democracy,  buoyant  and  self-made,  while  the  other  rep- 
resented an  intellectual,  almost  effeminate,  aristoc- 
racy. Yet  nearly  from  the  start  Frohman  perceived 
the  bigness  of  vision  and  the  profound  understanding 
that  lurked  behind  Fitch's  almost  superficial  exterior. 

In  common,  too,  with  Morgan,  Roosevelt,  and  others 
of  the  same  type,  Frohman  had  an  extraordinary  quality 
of  unconscious  hypnotism.  Men  who  came  to  him  in 
anger  went  away  in  satisfied  peace.  They  succumbed 
to  what  was  an  overwhelming  and  compelling  per- 
sonality. 

He  proved  this  in  the  handling  of  his  women  stars. 
They  combined  a  group  of  varied  and  conflicting  tem- 
peraments. Each  wanted  a  separate  and  distinct  place 
in  his  affections,  and  each  got  it.     It  was  part  of  the 

374 


THE    MAN    FROHMAN 

genius  of  the  man  to  make  each  of  his  close  associates 
feel  that  he  or  she  had  a  definite  niche  apart.  His  was 
the  perfecting  understanding,  and  no  one  better  ex- 
pressed it  than  Ethel  Bi^,rrymore,  who  said,  ''To  try  to 
explain  something  to  Charles  Frohman  was  to  insult 
him." 


XIX 

**WHY   FEAR   DEATH?" 

^ND  now  the  final  phase. 

/-I      The  last  years  of  Charles  Frohman's  life  were 
racked  with  physical  pain  that  strained  his  cour- 
ageous philosophy  to  the  utmost.      Yet  he  faced  this 
almost  incessant  travail  just  as  he  had  faced  all  other 
emergencies — ^with  composure. 

One  day  in  1912  he  fell  on  the  porch  of  the  house  at 
White  Plains  and  hurt  his  right  knee.  It  gave  him  con- 
siderable trouble.  At  first  he  believed  that  it  was  only 
a  bad  bruise.  In  a  few  days  articular  rheumatism  de- 
veloped. It  affected  all  of  his  joints,  and  it  held  him  in 
a  thrall  of  agony  until  the  end  of  his  life. 

Shortly  after  his  return  to  the  city  (he  now  lived  at 
the  Hotel  Knickerbocker)  he  was  compelled  to  take  to 
his  bed.  For  over  six  months  he  was  a  prisoner  in 
his  apartment,  suffering  tortures.  Yet  from  this  pain- 
racked  post  he  tried  to  direct  his  large  affairs.  There 
was  a  telephone  at  his  bedside,  and  he  used  it  until 
weakness  prevented  him  from  holding  the  receiver. 

He  could  not  go  to  the  theater,  so  the  theater  was 
brought  to  him.  More  than  one  preliminary  rehearsal 
was  held  in  his  drawing-room.  This  was  particularly 
true  of  musical  pieces.  The  music  distracted  him  from 
his  pain. 

376 


'*WHY    FEAR    DEATH?'' 

Though  prostrate  with  pain,  his  dogged  determination 
to  keep  on  doing  things  held.  Barrie  sent  him  the 
manuscript  of  a  skit  called  ''A  Slice  of  Life."  It  was  a 
brilliant  satire  on  the  modern  play.  Frohman  picked 
Ethel  Barrymore  (who  was  then  playing  in  ''Cousin 
Kate"  at  the  Empire),  John  Barrymore,  and  Hattie 
Williams  to  do  it,  and  the  rehearsals  were  held  in  the 
manager's  rooms  at  the  Knickerbocker. 

Frohman  was  as  much  interested  in  this  one-act  piece 
as  if  it  had  been  a  five-act  drama.  His  absorption  in  it 
helped  to  divert  his  mind  from  the  pain  that  had  sadly 
reduced  the  once  rotund  body. 

With  ''A  SHce  of  Life"  he  introduced  another  one  of 
the  many  innovations  that  he  brought  to  the  stage. 
The  play  was  projected  as  a  surprise.  No  announce- 
ment of  title  was  made.  The  advertisements  simply 
stated  that  Charles  Frohman  would  present  ''A  Nov- 
elty" at  the  Empire  Theater  at  eight  o'clock  on  a  cer- 
tain evening. 

Frohman  was  unable  to  attend  the  opening  perform- 
ance, so  he  wrote  a  little  speech  which  was  spoken  by 
William  Seymour.  The  speech  was  rehearsed  as  care- 
fully as  the  play.  A  dozen  times  the  stage-director 
delivered  it  before  his  chief,  who  indicated  the  various 
phrases  to  be  emphasized. 

It  was  during  the  era  of  the  New  Theater  when 
the  so-called  "advanced  drama"  was  much  ex- 
ploited. Frohman  had  little  patience  with  this  sort  of 
dramatic  thing.  The  little  speech  conveys  some- 
thing of  his  satirical  feeling  about  the  millionaire- 
endowed  theatrical  project  which  was  then  agitating 
New  York. 
Here  is  the  speech  as  Frohman  wrote  it: 
25  377 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen: — My  appearance  here 
to-night  is  by  way  of  apology.  I  am  here  repre- 
senting Mr.  Charles  Frohman — you  may  have 
heard  of  him — the  manager  of  this  theater,  the 
Empire. 

His  idea  in  announcing  a  novelty  in  connec- 
tion with  Miss  Barrymore's  play,  ''Cousin  Kate,'* 
was  really  for  the  purpose  of  getting  you  here  once 
in  time  for  the  ringing  up  of  the  curtain.  This  will 
he  a  special  performance  of  a  play  to  he  given  hy 
a  few  rising  memhers  of  the  School  of  Acting 
connected  with  this  theater,  the  Empire,  of  which 
he  is  proud — very  proud.  It  is  not  an  old  modern 
play,  hut  what  is  called  to-day  ''The  Advanced 
Drama,''  made  possible  here  to-night  hy  the  mo- 
mentary holiday  of  the  New  Theater,  and  it  is 
called  "A  Slice  of  Life." 

During  those  desperate  days  when,  like  Heinrich 
Heine,  he  seemed  to  be  lying  in  a  ''mattress  grave," 
his  dauntless  humor  never  forsook  him,  as  this  Httle 
incident  will  show:  Some  years  previous,  Gillette  suf- 
fered a  breakdown  from  overwork.  When  the  actor- 
playwright  went  to  his  home  at  Hartford  to  recuperate 
his  sister  remonstrated  with  him. 

"You  must  stop  work  for  a  long  while,"  she  said. 
' '  That  man  Frohman  is  kilHng  you. ' '  Gillette  afterward 
told  Frohman  about  it. 

Frohman  now  lay  on  a  bed  of  agony,  and  Gillette 
came  to  see  him.  The  sick  man  remembered  the  epi- 
sode of  the  long  ago,  and  said,  weakly,  to  his  visitor: 

"Gillette,  tell  your  sister  that  you  are  killing  me." 

With  the  martyrdom  of  incessant  pain  came  a  ripen- 

378 


''WHY    FEAR    DEATH?" 

ing  of  the  man's  character.  Frohman  developed  a  great 
admiration  for  Lincoln.  Often  he  would  ask  Gillette 
to  read  him  the  famous  * 'Gettysburg  Address."  Simple, 
haunting  melodies  like  "The  Lost  Chord"  took  hold  of 
him.  Marie  Doro  was  frequently  summoned  to  play 
it  for  him  on  the  piano.  Although  his  courage  did  not 
falter,  he  looked  upon  men  and  events  with  a  larger  and 
deeper  philosophy. 

During  that  first  critical  stage  of  the  rheumatism  he 
sank  very  low.  His  two  devoted  friends,  Dillingham 
and  Paul  Potter,  came  to  him  daily.  Each  had  his  regu- 
lar watch.  Dillingham  came  in  the  morning  and  read 
and  talked  with  the  invalid  for  hours.  He  managed  to 
bring  a  new  story  or  a  fresh  joke  every  day. 

Potter  reported  at  nine  in  the  evening  and  remained 
until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  or  at  whatever  hour 
sleep  came  to  the  relief  of  the  sick  man.  One  of  the 
compensations  of  those  long  vigils  was  the  phonograph. 
Frohman  was  very  fond  of  a  tune  called  "Alexander's 
Rag-Time  Band."  The  nurse  would  put  this  record  in 
the  machine  and  then  leave.  When  it  ran  out,  Potter, 
who  never  could  learn  how  to  renew  the  instrument, 
simply  turned  the  crank  again.  There  were  many  nights 
when  Frohman  listened  to  this  famous  rag-time  song 
not  less  than  twenty  times.     But  he  did  not  mind  it. 

In  his  illness  Frohman  was  like  a  child.  He  was 
afraid  of  the  night.  He  begged  Potter  to  tell  him  stories, 
and  the  author  of  so  many  plays  spun  and  unfolded 
weird  and  wonderful  tales  of  travel  and  adventure. 
Like  a  child,  too,  Frohman  kept  on  saying,  "More, 
more,"  and  often  Potter  went  on  talking  into  the  dawn. 

Potter,  like  all  his  comrades  in  that  small  and  devoted 
group  of  Frohman  intimates,  did  his  utmost  to  shield 

379 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

his  friend  from  hurt.  When  Frohman  launched  a  new 
play  during  those  bedridden  days  Potter  would  wait 
until  the  so-called  *' bull-dog"  editions  of  the  morning 
papers  (the  very  earliest  ones)  were  out.  Then  he 
would  go  down  to  the  street  and  get  them.  If  the 
notice  was  favorable  he  would  read  it  to  Frohman.  If 
it  was  unfriendly  Potter  would  say  that  the  paper  was 
not  yet  out,  preferring  that  the  manager  read  the  bad 
news  when  it  was  broad  daylight  and  it  could  not  inter- 
fere with  his  sleep. 

The  humor  and  comradeship  which  always  marked 
Frohman 's  close  personal  relations  were  not  lacking  in 
those  nights  when  the  life  of  the  valiant  little  man  hung 
by  a  thread.  When  all  other  means  of  inducing  sleep 
failed,  Potter  found  a  sure  cure  for  insomnia. 

"Just  as  soon  as  I  talked  to  Frohman  about  my  own 
dramatic  projects,"  he  says,  **he  would  fall  asleep.  So, 
when  the  night  grew  long  and  the  travel  stories  failed, 
and  even  "Alexander's  Rag-Time  Band"  grew  stale,  I 
would  start  off  by  saying:  'I  have  a  new  play  in  mind. 
This  is  the  w^ay  the  plot  goes.'  Then  Frohman's  eyes 
would  close;  before  long  he  would  be  asleep,  and  I 
crept  noiselessly  out." 

Occasionally  during  those  long  conflicts  with  pain 
Frohman  saw  through  the  glass  darkly.  His  intense 
and  constant  suffering,  for  the  time,  put  iron  into  his 
well-nigh  indomitable  soul. 

"I'm  all  in,"  he  would  say  to  Potter.  "The  luck  is 
against  me.  The  star  system  has  killed  my  judgment. 
I  no  longer  know  a  good  play  from  a  bad.  The  sooner 
they  'scrap'  me  the  better." 

His  thin  fingers  tapped  on  the  bedspread,  and,  like 
Colonel  Newcome,  he  awaited  the  Schoolmaster's  final  call. 

380 


'^WHY    FEAR    DEATH?" 

**You  and  I,"  he  would  continue,  ''have  seen  our 
period  out.  What  comes  next  on  the  American  stage? 
Cheap  prices,  I  suppose.  Best  seats  everywhere  for  a 
dollar,  or  even  fifty  cents;  with  musical  shows  alone 
excepted.  Authors'  royalties  cut  to  ribbons;  actors' 
salaries  pared  to  nothing.  Popular  drama,  bloody, 
murderous,  ousting  drawing-room  comedy.  Crook 
plays,  shop-girl  plays,  slangy  American  farces,  nude 
women  invading  the  auditorium  as  in  Paris." 

"And  then?"  asked  Potter. 

"Chaos,"  said  he.  "Fortunately  you  and  I  won't 
live  to  see  it.  Turn  on  the  phonograph  and  let  'Alex- 
ander's Rag-time  Band'  cheer  us  up." 

He  got  well  enough  to  walk  around  with  a  stick,  and 
with  movement  came  a  return  of  the  old  enthusiasm. 
A  man  of  less  indomitable  will  would  have  succumbed 
and  become  a  permanent  invalid.  Not  so  with  Froh- 
man.  He  even  got  humor  out  of  his  misfortune,  be- 
cause he  called  his  cane  his  "wife."  He  became  a 
familiar  sight  on  that  part  of  Broadway  between  the 
Knickerbocker  Hotel  and  the  Empire  Theater  as  he 
walked  to  and  fro.  It  was  about  all  the  walking  he 
could  do. 

He  kept  on  producing  plays,  and  despite  the  physical 
hardships  under  which  he  labored  he  attended  and  con- 
ducted rehearsals.  With  the  pain  settling  in  him  more 
and  more,  he  believed  himself  incurable.  Yet  less  than 
four  people  knew  that  he  felt  that  the  old  titanic  power 
was  gone,  never  to  return. 

The  great  war,  on  whose  stupendous  altar  he  was  to 
be  an  innocent  victim,  affected  him  strangely.  The  hor- 
ror, the  tragedy,  the  wantonness  of  it  all  touched  him 
mightily.    Indeed,  it  seemed  to  be  an  obsession  with  him, 

381 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

and  he  talked  about  it  constantly,  unmindful  of  the 
fact  that  the  cruel  destiny  that  was  shaping  its  bloody 
course  had  also  marked  him.  for  death. 

Early  during  the  war  he  saw  some  verses  that  made 
a  deep  impression  on  him.  They  were  called  "In  the 
Ambulance,"  and  related  to  the  experience  of  a  wounded 
soldier.  He  learned  them  by  heart,  and  he  never  tired 
of  repeating  them.     They  ran  like  this: 

*'Two  rows  of  cabbages; 
Two  of  curly  greens; 
Two  rows  of  early  peas; 
Two  of  kidney -be  arts.'' 

That's  what  he's  muttering^ 

Making  such  a  song, 
Keeping  all  the  chaps  awake 

The  whole  night  long. 

Both  his  legs  are  shot  away^ 

And  his  head  is  light, 
So  he  keeps  on  muttering 

All  the  blessed  night: 

"Two  rows  of  cabbages; 
Two  of  curly  greens; 
Two  rows  of  early  peas, 
And  two  of  kidney-beans.'^ 

It  was  Frohman's  intense  feeling  about  the  wary  that 
led  him  to  produce  '  *  The  Hyphen. ' '  Its  rejection  by  the 
public  hurt  him  unspeakably.  Yet  he  regarded  the 
fate  of  the  play  as  just  one  more  phase  of  the  big  game 
of  life.     He  smiled  and  went  his  way. 

The  rheumatisra  still  oppressed  hira,  but  he  turned 

382 


''WHY    FEAR    DEATH?" 

his  face  resolutely  toward  the  future.  War  or  peace, 
pain  or  relief,  he  was  not  to  be  deprived  of  his  annual 
trip  to  England.  He  was  involved  in  some  litigation 
that  required  his  presence  in  London.  Besides,  the 
city  by  the  Thames  called  to  him,  and  behind  this  call 
was  the  appeal  of  old  and  loved  associations.  With  all 
his  wonted  enthusiasm  he  wrote  to  his  friends  at  Marlow 
telling  them  that  he  was  coming  over  and  that  he  would 
soon  be  in  their  midst. 

Frohman  now  made  ready  for  this  trip.  When  he 
announced  that  he  was  going  on  the  Lusitania  his  friends 
and  associates  made  vigorous  protest,  which  he  derided 
with  a  smile.  Thus,  in  the  approach  to  death,  just  as  in 
the  path  to  great  success,  opposition  only  made  him  all 
the  more  decided.  With  regard  to  his  sailing  on  the 
Lusitania,  this  tenacity  of  purpose  was  his  doom. 

Whether  he  had  a  premonition  or  not,  the  fact  re- 
mains that  he  said  and  did  things  during  the  days  be- 
fore he  sailed  which  uncannily  suggested  that  the  end 
was  not  unexpected.  For  one  thing,  he  dictated  his 
whole  program  for  the  next  season  before  he  started. 
It  was  something  that  he  had  never  done  before. 

When  Marie  Doro  came  to  his  office  to  say  good-by 
he  pulled  out  a  little  red  pocket  note-book  in  which 
he  jotted  down  many  things  and  suddenly  said: 

'  *  Queer,  but  the  little  book  is  full.  There  is  no  room 
for  anything  else." 

Just  as  he  was  warned  not  to  produce  "The  Hyphen," 
so  was  he  now  cautioned  by  anonymous  correspondents 
(and  even  by  mysterious  telephone  messages)  not  to 
take  the  Lusitania.  But  all  this  merely  tightened  his 
purpose. 

lie  met  the  danger  with  his  usual  jest.     On  the  day 

383 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

before  he  sailed  he  went  up  to  bid  his  old  friend  and 
colleague,  Al  Hayman,  good-by.  Hayman,  like  all  his 
associates,  warned  him  not  to  go  on  the  Lusitania. 

''Do  you  think  there  is  any  danger?"  asked  Frohman. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  replied  Hayman. 

"Well,  I  am  going,  anyhow,"  was  the  answer. 

After  he  had  shaken  hands  he  stopped  at  the  door 
and  said,  smilingly: 

"Well,  Al,  if  you  want  to  write  to  me  just  address 
the  letter  care  of  the  German  Submarine  U  4." 

Those  last  days  ashore  were  filled  with  a  strange 
mellowness.  Ethel  Barrymore  came  down  from  Boston 
to  see  him.  They  had  an  intimate  talk  about  the  old 
days.  When  she  left  him  she  saw  tears  in  his  eyes. 
That  night,  just  as  she  was  about  to  go  on  in  "The 
Shadow"  in  Boston,  she  received  this  telegram  from 
him: 

Nice  talk,  Ethel.     Good-by.     C.  F. 

The  Lusitania  sailed  at  ten  o'clock  on  Saturday 
morning.  May  i,  191 5.  Even  at  the  dock  Frohman 
could  not  resist  his  little  joke.  When  Paul  Potter,  who 
saw  him  off,  said  to  him: 

"Aren't  you  afraid  of  the  U  boats,  C.  F.?" 

"No,  I  am  only  afraid  of  the  I  O  U's,"  was  the 
reply. 

In  his  farewell  steamer  letter  to  Dillingham,  written 
as  the  huge  ship  was  plowing  her  way  down  the  bay, 
he  drew  a  picture  of  a  submarine  attacking  a  trans- 
atlantic liner.  The  last  lines  he  wrote  on  the  boat  were 
prophetic  of  his  fate.  Ann  Murdock  had  sent  him  a 
large  steamer  basket  in  the  shape  of  a  ship.  The  lines 
to  her,  brought  back  by  the  ship's  pilot,  were: 

384 


COPYRIGHT,    1914.    BY     DANIEL     FROHMAN 


CHARLES  FROHMAN  ON  BOARD  SHIP 


"WHY    FEAR    DEATH?" 

The    little  ship  you  sent   is   more   wonderful 
than  the  big  one  that  takes  me  away  from  you. 

Like  most  of  his  distinguished  fellow- voyagers,  and 
they  included  Charles  Klein,  Elbert  Hubbard,  Justus 
Miles  Forman,  and  Alfred  G.  Vanderbilt,  Frohman  had 
frequently  traveled  on  the  Lusitania.  By  a  curious 
coincidence  he  had  once  planned  to  use  her  sister  ship, 
the  Mauretania,  for  one  of  his  daring  innovations.  He 
had  a  transatlantic  theater  in  mind.  In  other  words,  he 
proposed  to  produce  whole  plays  on  shipboard.  He 
took  over  a  small  company  headed  by  Marie  Doro  to 
try  out  the  experiment.  Early  on  the  voyage  Miss 
Doro  succumbed  to  seasickness  and  the  project  was 
abandoned. 

The  last  journey  of  the  Lusitania  was  uneventful  until 
that  final  fateful  day.  Frohman  had  kept  to  his  cabin 
during  the  greater  part  of  the  trip.  He  was  still  suffer- 
ing great  pain  in  his  right  knee,  and  walked  the  deck 
with  difficulty.  Occasionally  he  appeared  in  the  smok- 
ing-room, and  was  present  at  the  ship's  concert  on  the 
night  before  the  end. 

At  2.33  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  May  7th  the  great 
vessel  rode  to  her  death.  Eight  miles  off  the  Head  of 
Kinsale,  and  within  sight  of  the  Irish  coast,  she  was 
torpedoed  by  a  German  submarine.  She  sank  in  half 
an  hour,  with  frightful  loss  of  life,  including  more  than 
a  hundred  Americans. 

Frohman 's  hour  was  at  hand,  and  he  met  it  with  the 
smiling  equanimity  and  unflinching  courage  with  which 
he  had  faced  every  other  crisis  in  his  life.  When  the 
crash  came  he  was  on  the  upper  promenade  deck.  He 
had  just  come  from  his  luncheon  and  was  talking  with 

385 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

George  Vernon,  the  brother-in-law  of  Rita  Jolivet,  the 
actress,  who  was  also  on  board.  They  were  now  joined 
by  Captain  Scott,  an  Englishman  on  his  way  from 
India  to  enlist.  When  Miss  Jolivet  reached  them  Froh- 
man  was  smoking  a  cigar  and  was  calm  and  apparently 
undisturbed. 

Scott  went  below  to  get  some  life-belts.  He  returned 
with  only  two.  He  had  started  up  with  three,  but  gave 
one  to  a  woman  on  the  way.  Miss  Jolivet  had  provided 
herself  with  a  belt. 

Scott  started  to  put  one  of  the  life-preservers  on 
Frohman,  who  protested.  Finally,  with  great  reluctance, 
he  acquiesced.  There  was  no  belt  left  for  Scott.  Froh- 
man insisted  that  he  get  one,  whereupon  the  soldiersaid : 

"If  you  must  die,  it  is  only  for  once." 

There  was  a  responsive  look  and  a  whimsical  smile  on 
Frohman 's  face  at  this  remark.  He  kept  on  smoking. 
Then  he  started  to  talk  about  the  Germans.  "I  didn't 
think  they  would  do  it,"  he  said.  He  was  apparently 
the  most  unruffled  person  on  the  ship. 

The  great  liner  began  to  lurch.  Frohman  now  said 
to  Miss  Jolivet : 

"You  had  better  hold  on  the  rail  and  save  your 
strength." 

The  ship's  list  became  greater;  huge  waves  rolled  up, 
carrying  wreckage  and  bodies  on  their  crest.  Then,  with 
all  the  terror  of  destruction  about  him,  Frohman  said  to 
his  associates,  with  the  serene  smile  still  on  his  face : 

"Why  fear  death?  It  is  the  most  beautiful  adventure 
of  life." 

Instinctively  the  four  people  moved  closer  together, 
they  joined  hands  by  a  common  impulse,  and  stood 
^waiting  the  end, 

386 


'*WHY    FEAR    DEATH?" 

The  ship  gave  a  sudden  lurch;  once  more  a  mighty 
green  cliff  of  water  came  rushing  up,  bearing  its  tide  of 
dead  and  debris;  again  Frohman  started  to  say  the 
speech  that  was  to  be  his  valedictory.  He  had  hardly 
repeated  the  first  three  words — ''Why  fear  death?" — 
when  the  group  was  engulfed  and  all  sank  beneath  the 
surface  of  the  sea. 

No  situation  of  the  thousands  that  he  had  created  in 
the  theater  was  so  vividly  or  so  unaffectedly  dramatic 
as  the  great  manager's  own  exit  from  the  stage  of  life. 
SmiHngly  he  had  made  his  way  through  innumerable 
difficulties;  smiHngly  and  with  the  highest  heroism  he 
met  his  fate. 

The  only  survivor  of  the  quartet  that  stood  hand  in 
hand  on  those  death-cluttered  decks  was  Miss  Jolivet, 
and  it  was  she  who  told  the  story  of  those  last  thrilling 
minutes. 

Charles  Frohman' s  body  was  recovered  the  next  day 
and  brought  to  Queenstown.  A  fortnight  later  it  reached 
New  York.  On  the  casket  was  the  American  flag  that 
the  dead  man  had  loved  so  well.  Though  princes  of 
capital,  famous  playwrights,  and  international  authori- 
ties on  law  and  art  went  down  with  him,  the  loss  of 
Frohman  overshadowed  all  others.  In  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  the  loss  of  the  Lusitania  was  the  loss  of  Charles 
Frohman. 

His  noble  and  eloquent  final  words,  so  rich  with 
courageous  philosophy,  not  only  joined  the  category  of 
the  great  farewells  of  all  time,  but  wherever  read  or 
uttered  will  give  humanity  a  fresher  faith  with  which  to 
meet  the  inevitable.  In  a  supreme  moment  of  the  most 
colossal  drama  that  human  passion  ever  staged,  fate 
literally  hurled  him  into  the  universal  lime-light  to  enact 

387 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

a  part  that  gave  him  an  undying  glory.  The  shyest  of 
men  became  the  world's  observed. 

The  last  tribute  to  Charles  Frohman  was  the  most 
remarkable  demonstration  of  sorrow  in  the  history  of  the 
theater.  The  one-time  barefoot  boy  of  Sandusky,  Ohio, 
who  had  projected  so  many  people  into  eminenc:  and 
who  had  himself  hidden  behind  the  rampart  of  his 
own  activities,  was  widely  mourned. 

The  principal  funeral  services  were  held  at  the  Temple 
Emanu-El  in  New  York.  Here  gathered  a  notable 
assemblage  that  took  reverent  toll  of  all  callings  and 
creeds.  It  was  proud  to  do  honor  to  the  man  who  had 
achieved  so  much  and  who  had  died  so  heroically. 

At  the  bier  Augustus  Thomas  delivered  an  eloquent 
address  that  fittingly  summed  up  the  Hfe  and  purpose 
of  the  greatest  force  that  the  English-speaking  theater 
has  yet  known.     Among  other  things  he  said : 

"A  wise  man  counseled,  'Look  into  your  heart  and 
write':  'C.  F.'  looked  into  his  heart  and  Hstened.  He 
had  that  quoted  quality  of  genius  that  made  him  believe 
his  own  thought,  made  him  know  that  what  was  true 
for  him  in  his  private  heart  was  true  for  all  mankind. 
That  was  the  secret  of  his  power.  It  was  the  golden 
key  to  both  his  understanding  and  expression. 

"He  was  a  fettered  and  a  prisoned  poet,  often  in  his 
finest  moments  inarticulate.  Working  in  the  theater 
with  his  companies  and  stars,  with  the  women  and  the 
men  who  knew  and  loved  him,  he  accomplished  less  by 
word  than  by  a  radiating  vital  force  that  brought  them 
into  his  intensity  of  feeHng.  In  his  social  intercourse 
and  comradeship,  telling  a  dramatic  or  a  comic  story, 
at  a  certain  pressure  of  its  progress  where  other  men 
depend  on  paragraphs  and  phrases  he  coined  a  near- 

388 


^'WHY    FEAR    DEATH?'' 

word  and  a  sign,  and  by  a  graphic  and  exalted  panto- 
mime ambushed  and  captured  our  emotions. 

' '  His  mind  was  clear  and  tranquil  as  a  mountain  lake, 
its  quiet  depths  reflecting  all  the  varied  beauty  of  the 
bending  skies.  He  had  the  gift  of  epitome.  The  men 
who  knew  him  best  valued  his  estimate,  not  only  of 
the  things  in  his  own  profession,  but  of  any  notable 
event  or  deed  or  tendency. .  Often  his  spontaneous 
comment  on  a  cabled  utterance  or  act  laid  stress  upon 
the  word  or  moment  that  next  day  served  as  captions 
for  the  significant  review.  The  printed  thought  of  the 
leading  statesman,  the  outlook  of  the  financier,  the  de- 
cision of  the  commanding  soldier,  or  the  vision  of  the 
poet  found  kinship  in  his  sympathy,  not  because  he 
strove  tiptoe  to  apprehend  its  elevation,  but  because  his 
spirit  was  native  to  that  plane." 

Coincident  with  the  New  York  funeral,  services  were 
held  at  Los  Angeles  at  the  instigation  of  Maude  Adams ; 
at  San  Francisco  under  the  sponsorship  of  John  Drew; 
at  Tacoma  at  the  behest  of  BilHe  Burke;  at  Providence 
under  the  direction  of  Julia  Sanderson,  Donald  Brian, 
and  Joseph  Cawthorn.  Thus  a  nation-wide  chain  of 
grief  linked  the  stars  of  the  Frohman  heaven. 

Nor  did  foreign  lands  fail  to  render  homage  to  the 
memory  of  Charles  Frohman.  A  memorial  was  held  at 
St.-Martins-in-the-Fields,  in  London,  almost  within 
stone's-throw  of  the  Duke  of  York's  Theater,  in  which 
he  took  so  much  pride.  In  the  presence  of  a  distin- 
guished company  that  included  the  chivalry  and  flower 
of  the  British  theater,  the  sub-deacon  of  St.  Paul's 
conducted  services  for  the  self-made  American  who  had 
risen  from  advance-agent  to  be  the  theatrical  master 
of  his  times. 

389 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

In  Paris  the  French  Society  of  Authors  eulogized  the 
man  who  had  been  their  sympathetic  envoy  and  sincere 
sponsor  at  the  throne  of  American  appreciation. 

Thus  fell  the  curtain  on  Charles  Frohman.  As  in  life 
he  had  joined  two  continents  by  the  bonds  of  his  daring 
and  courageous  enterprise,  so  on  his  death  did  those 
two  worlds  unite  to  do  him  honor.  He  had  not  lived 
in  vain. 


Hath  borne  his  faculties  so  meek,  hath  been 
So  clear  in  his  great  office,  that  his  virtues 
Will  plead  like  angels,  trumpet-tongued,  against 
The  deep  damnation  of  his  taking  off. 

— "Macbeth,"  I,  vii. 


Appendix  A 


THE    LETTERS   OF   CHARLES   FROHMAN 

JT  "T  NLIKE  many  men  of  achievement,  Charles  Frohman 

I    I  was  not  a  prolific  letter-writer.     He  avoided  letter- 

^^    writing  whenever  it  was  possible.     When  he  could  not 

convey  his  message  orally  he  resorted  to  the  telegraph. 

Letters  were  the  last  resort. 

He  had  a  sort  of  constitutional  objection  to  long  letters. 
The  only  lengthy  epistles  that  ever  came  from  him  were 
dictated  and  referred  to  matters  of  business.  They  all  have 
one  quality  in  common.  As  soon  as  he  had  concluded  the 
discussion  of  the  topic  in  mind  he  would  immediately  tell 
about  the  fortunes  of  his  plays.  He  seldom  failed  to  make  a 
reference  to  the  business  that  Maude  Adams  was  doing  (for 
her  immense  success  was  very  dear  to  his  heart),  and  he 
always  commented  on  his  own  strenuous  activities.  He  liked 
to  talk  about  the  things  he  was  doing. 

The  really  intimate  Frohman  letters  were  always  written 
by  hand  on  scraps  of  paper,  and  were  short,  jerky,  and  epi- 
grammatic. Most  of  these  were  written,  or  rather  scratched, 
to  intimates  like  James  M.  Barrie,  Paul  Potter,  and 
Haddon  Chambers. 

As  indicated  in  one  of  the  chapters  of  this  book,  Frohman 
delighted  in  caricature.  To  a  few  of  his  friends  he  would 
send  a  humorous  cartoon  instead  of  a  letter.  He  caricatured 
whatever  he  saw,  whether  riding  on  trains  or  eating  in  restau- 
rants. If  he  wanted  a  friend  to  dine  with  him  he  would 
sketch  a  rough  head  and  mark  it  "Me";  then  he  would 
draw  another  head  and  label  it  "You."  Between  these  heads 
26  393 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

he  would  make  a  picture  of  a  table,  and  under  it  scrawl, 
''Knickerbocker,  Friday,  7  o'clock." 

Frohman  seldom  used  pen  and  ink.  Most  of  his  letters 
were  written  with  the  heavy  blue  editorial  pencil  that  he 
liked  to  use.  He  wrote  an  atrocious  hand.  His  only  com- 
petitor in  this  way  was  his  close  friend  Barrie.  The  general 
verdict  among  the  people  who  have  read  the  writing  of  both 
men  is  that  Frohman  took  the  palm  for  illegible  chirography . 

Frohman  could  pack  a  world  of  meaning  into  his  letters. 
To  a  fellow-manager  who  had  written  to  Boston  to  ask  if  he 
had  seen  a  certain  actress  play,  he  replied:  "No,  I  have  had 
the  great  pleasure  of  not  seeing  her  act." 

His  letters  reflect  his  moods  and  throw  intimate  light  on 
his  character.  He  would  always  have  his  joke.  To  William 
Collier,  who  had  sent  him  a  box  for  a  play  that  he  was  doing 
in  New  York,  he  once  wrote:  "I  do  not  think  I  wiU  have 
any  difficulty  in  finding  yotu:  theater,  although  a  great  many 
new  theaters  have  gone  up.  Many  old  ones  have  'gone 
up'  too." 

His  swift  jugglery  with  words  is  always  manifest.  To  Alfred 
Sutro  he  sent  this  sentence  notifying  him  that  his  play  was  to 
go  into  rehearsal:    "The  die  is  cast — but  not  the  play." 

Through  his  letters  there  shines  his  uncompromising  rule 
of  life.  Writing  to  W.  Lestocq,  his  agent  in  London,  in  ref- 
erence to  the  English  failure  of  "Years  of  Discretion,"  he 
said:  "It  is  a  failure,  and  that  is  the  end  of  it.  You  can't 
get  aroimd  failure,  so  we  must  go  on  to  something  else." 

The  nimiber  of  available  Frohman  letters  is  not  large. 
The  following,  gathered  from  various  sources,  will  serve  to 
indicate  something  of  their  character: 

To  an  English  author  whose  play,  a  weak  one,  was  rapidly  failing: 
No;   it  is  not  the  war  that  is  affecting  your  business. 
It  is  the  play — nothing  else. 

To  Cyril  Maude,  whose  penmanship  is  notably  indecipherable: 

I  can't  read  your  handwriting  very  well;  but  I  wonder 

if  you  can  read  my  typewriting.     Just  pretend  I  typed 

394 


APPENDIX    A 

this  myself.  .  .  .  Speaking  of  hits,  Granville  Barker  ar- 
rived yesterday,  and  the  city  suddenly  became  terribly 
cold — awful  weather.     Barker  will  do  well. 

To  H addon  Chambers: 

Last  night  we  produced  "Driven"  against  your  judg- 
ment.    The  press  not  favorable.     But  still  I'm  hoping. 

To  a  colleague: 

I  announced  "  Driven  "  as  a  com^edy.  Next  day  I  called 
it  a  play.     But  soon  I  may  call  it  off. 

To  W.  Lestocq: 

The  American  actors  over  here  are  worried  about  so 
many  EngHsh  actors  in  our  midst.  I  employ  both 
kinds — that  is,  I  want  good  actors  only. 

To  an  English  author: 

As  to  conditions  here  being  bad  for  good  plays;  that 
is  a  joke.  The  distressful  business  is  for  the  bad  plays 
that  I  and  other  managers  sometimes  produce. 

To  one  of  his  managers: 

Do  not  use  the  Hne  "The  World-Famous  Tri-Star 
Combination."  Just  say  "The  Great  Three-Star  Com- 
bination." It  is  easier  to  understand.  And  all  will  '  5 
well. 

To  one  of  his  managers  who  spoke  of  the  superiority  of  an 
actress  who  had  replaced  another  about  to  retire  to  private  life: 
But  now  that  her  stage  life  is  over  we  should  remem- 
ber her  years  of  good  work.  She  had  a  simple,  childish, 
fairy-like  appeal.  I  write  this  to  you  to  express  my 
feeling  for  one  who  has  left  our  work  for  good,  and  I 
can  think  now  only  of  pleasant  memories.  I  want  you 
to  feel  the  sam.e. 

To  an  English  author,  January,  191 5: 

Over  here  they  say  the  real  heroes  of  the  year  are  the 
managers  that  dare  produce  new  plays. 
395 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

To  a  business  colleague  about  a  singing  comedian  who  was 
laid  up  with  a  serious  illness: 

I  am  sorry  he  is  sick.  But  that  was  a  rotten  thing  for 
him  to  do — to  steal  our  song.  I  suppose  he  is  better. 
Only  the  good  die  young. 

To  Marie  Doro: 

I  saw  you  in  the  picture  play.  It  and  you  were  fine. 
%  What  a  lot  of  money  you  make!  When  I  return  from 
London  I'm  going  to  see  if  I  can  earn  $io  a  day  to  play 
in  some  of  the  screens.  We  are  all  going  up  to  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  Island  to  see  them  taking  you  in  the 
''White  Pearl"  pictures. 

Refusing  to  go  to  a  public  banquet: 

That's  the  first  free  thing  that  has  been  offered  m^e 
this  year.  But  there  are  three  things  my  physician  for- 
bids me  from  doing — to  eat,  drink,  or  talk. 

To  a  manager: 

There  are  no  bad  towns — only  bad  plays ! 

On  hearing  that  an  actress  in  his  em.ploy  had  reflected  on  his 
management: 

"^  In  this  message  I  am  charged  with  neglecting  your  in- 
terests. This  is  a  shock  to  me,  because  when  one  neglects 
his  trust,  he  is  dishonest.  This  is  the  first  time  I  have 
ever  been  so  accused,  and  I  am  wondering  if  you  inspired 
the  message.     I  think  it  important  that  you  should  know. 

Being  adjured  by  one  of  the  family  to  take  more  exercise: 

I  drove  out  to  Richmond.  Then  I  walked  a  mile. 
Now  I  hope  you'll  be  satisfied. 

To  his  sisters  {he  lived  then  at  the  Waldorf,  but  joined  the  family 
at  a  weekly  dinner  up-town): 

I  am  sending  you  a  cook-book  by  Oscar  of  this  hotel. 
You  may  find  some  use  for  it. 

396 


APPENDIX   A 

When  he  came  to  the  next  weekly  dinner  he  was  offered 
several  choice  dishes  prepared  from  Oscar's  recipes.  "I  see 
my  mistake,"  he  said.  *'I  wanted  my  usual  home  dinner. 
You  give  me  what  I  receive  all  the  time  at  the  hotel." 

To  Alfred  Sutro,  in  London: 

Give  us  something  full  of  situations,  and  we  will  give 
you  a  bully  time  again  in  America. 

To  William  Seymour,  his  stage-manager,  about  a  performance 
of  one  of  his  plays: 

When  you  rehearse  to-day  will  you  try  and  get  the 
old  woman  out  of  too  much  crying;  get  some  smiles,  and 
stop  her  screwing  up  her  face  every  time  she  speaks.  Of 
course,  it's  nervousness,  but  it  looks  as  if  she  were  ill. 

To  one  of  his  associates: 

Miss  Adams's  receipts  last  week  in  Boston  were  the 
largest  in  the  history  of  Boston  theaters  or  anywhere — 
$23,000.  But  I  had  some  others  which  I  won't  tell  you 
about. 

To  an  English  author  in  igij: 

At  present  the  taste  is  "down  with  light  plays,  down 
with  Hterary  plays."  They  want  plays  with  dramatic 
situations,  intrigue,  sex  conflict.  There  is  no  use  in  giving 
the  public  what  it  does  not  want  and  what  they  ought 
to  have.     I  am  just  finding  that  out,  with  much  cost. 

To  a  French  agent: 

It  seems  a  little  reckless  to  be  asked  to  pay  $2,500  for 
the  privilege  of  reading  a  new  French  play.  The  author 
seems  to  want  to  get  rich  quickly.  I  would  be  willing 
to  add  to  his  wealth  if  he  has  something  that  can  be 
produced  without  such  a  preliminary  penalty. 

To  W.  Lestocq: 

When  one  talks  to  an  English  author  about  "Diplo- 
macy," he  says,  "Oh,  that's  a  theatrical  play!"     I  wish 
I  could  get  another  like  it. 
397 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

To  an  English  manager: 

A  hundred  theaters  here  are  a  few  too  many.  Houses 
have  closed  on  a  Saturday  night  without  any  warning. 
Boston,  Chicago,  and  Philadelphia  have  been  better. 
You  see  w^e  have  this  wonderful  country  to  fall  back 
on,  which  makes  it  different  from  London. 

To  an  author  in  Loyidon: 

What  you  say  is  quite  true ;  a  good  play  is  a  good  play ; 
but  the  difficulty  I  find  is  to  ascertain  through  the  public 
and  the  box-office  what  they  think  is  a  good  play.  Our 
opinion  is  only  good  for  ourselves.  But  give  me  a 
dramatic  play  and  I'll  put  it  at  once  to  the  test. 

To  Htibert  Henry  Davies,  the  dramatist,  during  an  interim  oj 
that  author  s  activities: 

It  grieves  me  when  I  can't  get  your  material  going, 
especially  as  I  want  to  come  over  as  soon  as  I  can  and 
get  one  of  those  nice  lunches  in  your  nice  apartment. 

To  the  manager  oj  an  up-state  New  York  theater  regarding  an 
impending  first-night  performance: 

I  hope  we  shall  draw  a  representative  audience  the 
first  night.  I  know  audiences  with  you  are  sometimes 
a  little  reluctant  about  first  nights.  I  can't  understand 
this  myself.  In  my  opinion  there  is  an  extra  thrill  for 
them  in  the  experience  of  a  first  performance,  as  it  is  a 
special  event. 

To  Granville  Barker,  January,  191 3: 

I  am  very  jealous  of  the  Barrie  plays,  and  I  do  want 
them  for  my  own  theater  for  revivals.  ...  I  hear  such 
good  reports  about  your  Shakespearian  work  that  I  am 
awfully  pleased.  I  have  had  a  Marconi  from  Shake- 
speare himself,  in  which  he  speaks  highly  of  what  you 
have  done  for  his  work.  I  am  sure  this  will  be  as  gratify- 
ing to  you  as  it  is  to  me. 

§9^ 


APPENDIX    A 

Alhtding  to  his  painful  rheumatism  in  a  letter  to  George  Ed- 
wardes,  the  producer,  in  England,  January,  igij: 

I  can't  run  twelve  yards,  but  I  can  drink  a  lot  of  that 
bottled  lemonade  of  yours  when  I  get  over.  In  fact,  at 
the  moment  I  think  that  is  the  best  thing  running  in 
London. 

In  February,  IQ13,  Frohman  made  frequent  trips  to  Baltimore 
to  rehearse  and  superintend  the  production  of  his  plays  in 
that  city.  He  has  this  to  say  of  Baltimore  in  a  letter  to  Tunis 
F.  Dean,  manager  of  a  theater  there: 

I  was  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  your  fine 
theater,  for  I  have  decided  on  a  very  important  produc- 
tion with  one  of  our  leading  stars  there  next  season.  So 
that  I  shall  spend  a  week  in  Baltimore.  I  like  that. 
There  is  no  one  living  in  Baltimore  that  has  a  greater 
regard  for  that  fine,  dignified  city.  I  have  had  it  for 
years,  and  with  the  beautiful  theater  and  my  feeling  for 
Baltimore  and  you  at  the  head  of  that  theater,  I  am  look- 
ing forward  with  pleasure  to  coming  to  you  next  season. 

Frohman  was  simple,  direct,  and  forcible  in  his  criticism  of 
plays.  In  rejecting  a  French  play,  he  wrote  to  Michael 
Morton  in  defense  of  his  judgment,  New  York,  February, 
1913' 

I  was  awfully  glad  you  made  arrangements  for  the 
play,  the  one  I  don't  like,  and  I  hope  the  other  fellow  is 
right.  These  three-cornered  French  plays  are  going  to 
have  a  hard  time  over  here  in  the  future  unless  they  con- 
tain something  that  is  pretty  big,  novel,  or  human.  The 
guilty  wife  is  a  joke  here  now,  and  they  have  lots  of  fun 
when  they  play  these  scenes  in  these  plays.  The  Ameri- 
can and  English  play  is  different.  They  get  there  quicker 
in  a  different  manner  instead  of  the  old-fashioned  scheme. 
Of  course,  French  plays,  as  you  say,  may  be  laid  in  Eng- 
land and  in  America.  I  understand  that.  But  even 
then  it  seems  to  be  about  the  same  as  if  they  were  in 
France. 

S99 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

His  brief  y  epigrammatic  style  of  criticism  is  evident  in  a  letter 
to  Charles  B.  Dillingham,  wherein  he  speaks  of  a  certain  play 
under  consideration: 

I  think  the  end  of  the  play  is  not  good.  It  is  that 
old-time  stand-around-with-a-glass-of-wine-in-your-hand 
and  wish  success  to  the  happy  people. 

Extracts  from  an  interview  with  Frohman  which  he  wrote  for  the 
London  papers,  March,  iQij: 

There  will  be  no  change  in  my  work  of  producing  for 
the  London  stage.  I  shall  continue  to  do  so  at  my  own 
theaters  or  with  other  London  managers  just  as  long  as 
I  am  producing  on  any  stage,  and  I  fear  that  will  be  for 
a  long  time  yet,  as  I  am  younger  now  than  I  was  twenty 
years  ago. 

Prior  to  his  departure  for  England  he  wrote  the  following  to 
John  Drew  in  March,  1913: 

Thanks  for  your  fine  letter.  It  is  like  this,  John:  I 
hope  to  get  off  next  week,  but  I  don't  seem  to  be  able 
to  get  the  accommodations  I  want  on  either  one  of  the 
steamers  that  I  should  like  to  travel  on,  and  that  sail 
next  week.  I  need  a  little  special  accommodation  on 
account  of  my  leg,  which  still  refuses  to  answer  my  call 
and  requires  the  big  stick. 

To  Alfred  Sutro,  in  January,  191 3,  on  the  current  taste  in  plays: 
These  American  plays  with  thieves,  burglars,  detectives, 
and  pistols  seem  to  be  the  real  things  over  here  just  now. 
None  of  them  has  failed. 

Memorandum  for  his  office-boy,  Peter,  for  a  week's  supply  of 
his  favorite  drinks: 

Get  me  plenty  of  orange-juice,  lemon  soda,  ginger  ale, 
sarsaparilla,  buttermilk. 

To  Alfred  Sutro,  1913: 

Haddon  Chambers  sails  to-day.  You  may  see  him 
before  you  see  this.     He  leaves  behind  him  what  I  think 

400 


APPENDIX    A 

will  give  him  many  happy  returns  (box-office)  of  the  sea- 
son, as  Miss  Barrymore  is  doing  so  well  with  his  "Tante." 

To  W.  Lestocq,  concerning  one  of  his  leading  London  actresses: 
Miss  Titheridge  is  all  right,  as  I  wrote  Morton,  if  her 
emotions  can  be  kept  down,  and  if  she  can  try  to  make 
the  audience  act  more,  and  act  less  herself. 

To  Michael  Morton  regarding  an  actress: 

She  needs  to  be  told  that  real  acting  is  not  to  act,  but 
to  make  the  audience  feel,  and  not  feel  so  much  herself. 

To  the  editor  of  a  popular  monthly  magazine  upon  its  first 
birthday: 

I  understand  that  your  September  issue  will  be  made 

to  mark  's  first  birthday.     Judging  from  your 

paper  your  birthday  plans  miss  the  issue ;  because 

becomes  a  year  yoimger  every  September.  I  do  not 
congratulate  you  even  upon  this  fact;  because  you  can- 
not help  it.  I  do  not  congratulate  your  readers  because 
they  get  your  paper  so  very  cheap.  I  do  congratulate 
myself,  however,  for  calling  attention  to  these  wonderful 
facts. 

To  W.  Lestocq,  referring  to  a  statement  made  by  R.  C.  Carton, 
the  dramatist: 

I  don't  quite  understand  what  he  means  by  "holding 
up"  the  play.  Over  here  it  is  a  desperate  expression — 
one  that  means  pistols  and  murder,  and  all  that.  I  pre- 
sume it  means  something  different  in  London,  where 
Carton  lives. 

To  Mrs.  C.  C.  Gushing,  the  playwright,  declining  an  invitation: 

It  is  impossible  to  come  and  see  you  because  I  haven't 

got  Cottage  No.  4,  but  I've  got  Cell  No.  3  on  the  stage 

of  the  Empire  Theater,  where  I  am  passing  the  summer 

months. 

401 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

Even  Frohman's  cablegrams  reflected  his  humor.  In  iQij 
Billie  Burke  was  ill  at  Carlsbad,  so  he  cabled  her  some  cheering 
message  nearly  every  day.     Here  is  a  sample: 

Drove  past  your  house  to-day  and  ran  over  a  dog. 
Your  brother  glared  at  me. 

When  Blanche  Bates's  first  baby  vuas  born  {she  was  at  her 
country  house  near  Ossining  at  the  time),  Frohman  sent  her 
this  message: 

Ossining  has  now  taken  its  real  place  among  the 
communities  of  the  country.     Congratulations. 

To  Alfred  Sutro,  January,  1913: 

I  was  glad  to  hear  from  you.  First  let  me  strongly 
advise  you  to  take  the  comedy  side  for  the  Alexander 
play.  I  honestly  believe,  unless  it  is  something  enormous, 
and  for  big  stars  and  all  that,  the  other  side  is  no  good 
any  more.  For  the  present,  anyway,  I  speak  of  my  own 
country.  The  usual  serious  difficulties  between  a  hus- 
band and  wife  of  that  class — ^really  they  laugh  at  here 
now,  instead  of  touching  their  emotions.  They  have 
gone  along  so  rapidly.  Take  my  advice  in  this  matter, 
do!  I  am  glad  you  have  dropped  that  scene  from  the 
third  act  of  your  Du  Maurier  play. 

Now  that  I  am  back  to  town  I  intended  writing  you 
about  it.  I  assure  you  I  had  a  jolly  good  time  for  the 
first  two  acts  of  that  farce,  and  I  can  see  Gerald  Du 
Maurier  all  through  it.  The  third  act  worries  me  for 
this  country,  as  I  wrote  you.  But  the  performance  may 
change  all  this.  It  is  so  difficult  to  judge  farcical  work 
where  it  is  so  thoroughly  English  in  its  scene  that  I 
speak  of  to  get  any  idea  from  the  reading  of  it  for 
this  country.     Everything  is  going  along  splendidly. 

To  Haddon  Chambers,  March,  IQ13: 

I  propose,  and  the  troupes  dispose!    We  had  a  lot 
©f  floods  and  things  here  which  keep  us  on  the  move,  or 
403 


APPENDIX   A 

keep  our  troupes  moving  so  much  that  I  am  compelled 
to  postpone  my  sailing  until  April  12th  on  the  Olympic, 
which  makes  it  just  a  little  later  when  I  have  the  joy 
of  seeing  you.     My  best  regards. 

To  Richard  Harding  Davis,  Jtdy,  191 3: 

All  right,  we'll  fix  the  title.  I  am  glad  they  are  asking 
about  it.  About  people,  they  all  seem  to  want  Collier 
salaries.  As  you  have  chiefly  character  parts,  and  they 
are  so  good,  I  think  it  would  be  a  good  idea  for  us  to  create 
a  few  new  stars  through  you,  and 

Yours  truly, 

Charles  Frohman. 

To  George  Edwardes,  Jtdy,  191 3: 

First,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  away  giving  your 
heart  a  chance.  I  am  back  here  trying  to  give  my 
pocket-book  a  chance. 

To  William  Collier,  September,  1913: 

All  right,  all  arranged,  Thursday  night  in  New  York; 
Monday  and  Tuesday  in  Springfield,  Massachusetts.  I 
shall  leave  here  Monday  ready  to  meet  the  performance 
and  anything  else!    I  hope  all  is  well. 

To  Viola  Allen,  September,  191 3: 

I  was  awfiilly  glad  to  get  your  letter.  First  let  me 
say  you  had  better  come  to  see  "Much  Ado  About 
Nothing"  this  Saturday,  because  it  is  the  last  week.  We 
withdraw  it  to-morrow  night  and  produce  a  new  pro- 
gram at  once.  "Much  Ado"  wouldn't  do  for  more 
than  two  weeks.  After  that  it  fell.  Of  course  I  find  on 
Broadway  it  is  quite  impossible  to  run  Shakespeare  to 
satisfying  "star"  receipts.  So  come  along  to-morrow  if 
you  can.  It  would  be  fine  to  have  you,  and  fine  to  have 
some  of  the  original  members  of  the  Empire  company 
to  play  in  this  house,  and  I  should  like  it  beyond  words. 
I  don't,  however,  believe  in  that  sex-against-sex  play. 

403 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

In  these  great  days  of  the  superiority  of  woman  over 
mere  man  I  don't  think  it  would  do. 

Referring  to  a  young  actress  he  wished  to  secure,  he  writes  to 
Col.  Henry  W.  Savage  in  January,  iQij: 

My  dear  Colonel:    I  want  to  enter  on  your  works  in 

this  way.     You  have  a  girl  called .     I  know  she 

is  very  good,  because  I  have  never  seen  her  act,  but  I 
understand  she  is  not  acting  just  as  you  want  her  to, 
and  therefore  not  playing,  either  because  she  is  laying 
off,  or  that  you  have  stopped  her  from  playing.  I  have 
a  part  for  which  I  could  use  this  girl.  Will  you  let  me 
have  her,  and  in  that  way  do  another  great  wrong  by 
doing  me  a  favor?  If  she  doesn't,  or  you  do  not  wish  her 
to  play,  perhaps  it  would  be  as  much  satisfaction  to  you 
if  you  thought  you  were  doing  me  a  favor  and  let  her 
play  in  my  company  as  if  she  were  not  playing  at  all. 
My  best  regards,  and  I  hope  this  letter  will  not  add  much 
to  the  many  pangs  of  the  season  to  you. 

To  Sir  James  M .  Barrie,  October,  191 3: 

As  I  wrote  you,  I  felt  we  had  a  good  opportunity  here 
under  the  conditions  here,  and  I  produced  your  "The 
Dramatists  Get  What  They  Want"  last  night.  It  went 
splendidly  with  the  audiences,  and  has  very  good  press. 
Of  course  the  class  of  first-night  audience  that  we  had 
last  night  understood  it.  The  censor  is  a  new  thing  over 
here.  The  general  public  don't  understand  it,  and  it 
may  on  that  account  not  make  so  strong  an  impression 
on  further  audiences.  However,  that  is  all  right.  I  am 
deHghted  with  the  way  it  went,  and  you  would  have  been 
delighted  had  you  been  present.  I  think  the  press  was 
very  good  when  you  consider  the  subject  is  so  new  to  us. 
The  three  plays  have  all,  I  assure  you,  been  nicely  done, 
well  produced  and  cast,  and  you  would  be  pleased  with 
them  as  I  am  pleased  in  having  had  them  to  produce. 
It  helped  considerably  with  plays  that  would  not  have 
made  much  of  an  impression  without  them.  It  has 
404 


APPENDIX   A 

helped  the  general  business  of  these  plays,  which,  al- 
though it  is  not  great,  is  good,  and  makes  a  fair  average 
every  week.  It  is  chiefly  what  you  wovdd  call  "stall" 
business.  "The  Will"  has  been  a  fine  thing  for  John 
Drew,  and  he  is  very  happy  in  it.  He  has  made  a  very 
deep  impression  indeed.  I  think  the  part  with  the 
changes  of  character  as  played  by  him  has  made  it  really 
a  star  part.  If  you  have  any  more  of  them,  send  them 
along. 

To  W.  Somerset  Maugham,  October,  191 3: 

Regarding  the  first  act  of  "The  Land  of  Promise," 
this  is  what  I  think,  and  maybe  you  will  think  the  same, 
and,  if  you  do,  give  me  a  good  speech.  Send  it  as  soon 
as  you  can.  I  think  that  we  should  have  a  different 
ending  to  the  first  act,  uplifting  the  ending.  After  the 
girl  tells  about  her  brother  being  married,  wouldn't  it 
be  a  good  idea  for  her  to  say  something  like  this,  in  your 
own  language,  of  course:  "Canada!  Canada!  You  are 
right."  (Turning  to  Miss  Pringle),  "England,  why 
should  I  stay  in  England?  I'm  young,  I  want  gaiety, 
new  life.  Then  why  not  go  to  a  young  country  where 
all  is  life  and  gaiety  and  sunshine  and  joy  and  youth — 
the  land  of  promise,  the  land  for  me?"  Remember,  in 
the  last  act  she  speaks  of  all  she  expected  to  find  and 
how  different  the  reahzation.  This  new  idea  of  the  end 
of  the  first  act  will  help  this  speech,  I  think.  And  besides 
uplifting  the  ending,  gives  the  great  contrast  we  want 
to  show  in  the  play  and  is  driven  into  the  minds  of  the 
audience  at  the  end  of  the  first  act.  Give  the  girl  a  good 
upHfting  speech  at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  instead  of  a 
downward  one.  That  is  what  I  mean.  Then  after  that 
we  get  the  contrast  of  the  countries.  I  hope  this  is  clear 
and  you  will  understand  what  I  mean. 

To  J.  E.  Dodson,  October,  1913: 

My  greatest  regret  is  that  my  profession  takes  me  to 
Baltimore  on  the  day  that  you  are  giving  the  dinner  at 
405 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

the  Lotus  Club  to  my  friend  Cyril  Maude.  It  would 
give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  eat  his  health  with  you. 
I  rejoice  that  you  are  giving  recognition  on  his  first 
arrival  here  in  New  York  to  such  a  sincere  actor  and  such 
a  real  man.     He  belongs  to  all  countries. 

To  Haddon  Chambers,  June,  igii: 

Had  a  fine  trip  over.  Found  it  hot  here.  Started  in 
building  your  scenery.  Am  only  dropping  you  a  line 
because  I  want  to  ask  you,  while  I  think  of  it,  if  you  will 
get  a  copy  of  that  special  morning  dress  that  Gerald 
wears  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  act,  for  Richard  Ben- 
nett. I  think  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  bring  it  over. 
Bennett  is  not  quite  as  tall  as  Du  Maurier  and  just  a 
bit  thicker,  and  as  it  is  a  sort  of  loose  dress  there  will 
be  no  difficulty  in  fitting  it  here. 

Now  our  cast  is  in  good  shape  for  your  play,  and  I  am 
very  pleased  with  it.  We  have  an  asylum  full  of  children 
awaiting  your  selection  on  your  arrival. 

To  Sir  Arthur  Wing  Finer o,  August,  igii: 

The  man  I  selected  to  produce  your  play  is  Charles 
Frohman.  He  is  not  only  good  at  producing  plays  that 
have  never  been  staged  before,  but  he  Hkes  your  play 
thoroughly.  He  has  made  such  a  careful  study  of  it 
that  he  believes  that  he  knows  it  in  every  detail.  He 
feels  confident  of  his  ability  to  handle  it  and  to  make  the 
changes  you  have  made  just  as  he  thinks  you  and  your 
public  over  here  would  like  to  have  it  done. 

To  Sir  J  antes  M.  Barrie,  London,  September,  igii: 

This  will  be  signed  for  me,  as  I  am  still  confined  to  my 
bed — fighting  rheumatism.  I  thought  I  would  not  write 
you  until  you  return  to  London.  All  goes  well  here.  So 
far  my  new  productions  have  met  with  success.  Miss 
Barrymore  began  in  Mason's  play  last  night  in  Trenton, 
New  Jersey.  The  play  was  well  received  before  a  large 
audience.     Miss  Adams  begins  the  new  season  in  Buffalo 

406 


APPENDIX    A 

next  Monday  night,  I  am  hoping  within  the  next  two 
weeks  to  be  able  to  get  out  on  crutches.  I  have  been  to 
many  rehearsals.  They  carry  me  in  a  Bath  chair  to  and 
from  the  theater. 

To  Somerset  Maugham,  September,  igii: 

Thanks  for  yours.  I  am  still  down  with  rheumatism 
— partly  on  account  of  the  weather,  but  more  especially 
because  you  are  not  doing  any  work. 

To  a  New  York  critic,  October,  igii: 

I  hope  in  two  or  three  weeks  to  be  able  to  see  myself 
as  other  good  critics,  like  you,  would  see  me — well  and 
about  again  in  my  various  theaters. 

To  Sir  James  M.  Barrie,  November,  igii: 

Your  letter  was  a  delight,  and  it  will  be  fine  news  for 
Miss  Adams.  I  hope  you  will  send  the  material  as  soon 
as  you  can.  Here  I  am  dictating  to  you  from  bed;  so  I 
will  be  brief.  My  foot  is  now  tied  to  a  rope  which  is 
tied  to  the  bed  with  weights.  They  are  trying  to  stretch 
the  leg.  I  am  hoping  that  in  three  or  four  weeks  I  may 
be  able  to  sit  around.  Five  months  on  one's  back  is 
not  good  for  much  more  than  watching  aeroplanes. 

To  Sir  James  M.  Barrie,  December,  igii: 

I  was  very  glad  to  get  your  letter.  I  am  still  in  bed, 
so  that  I  am  obliged  to  dictate  this  letter  to  you.  The 
manuscript  arrived,  but  found  me  out  of  condition  to 
read  it.  I  sent  it  on  at  once  to  Maude  Adams.  She 
telegraphed  me  how  delighted  she  is  with  it,  and  I  have 
had  a  letter  from  her  telling  me  what  a  remarkable  piece 
of  work  it  is.  When  she  gets  back  to  town  I  shall  read 
the  manuscript.  Any  plan  you  work  out  for  London  will 
be  fine.  I  should  judge,  without  knowing,  that  your 
idea  for  matinees  is  the  best. 

I  am  hoping  that  in  another  month  I  will  be  out;  I 
am  living  on  that  hope.  Then  I  will  commence  to  think 
407 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

about  coming  over  to  you.  I  dare  not  think  of  it  until 
I  once  more  get  out,  I  am  afraid.  All  this  has  naturally 
disturbed  my  London  season.  I  am  happy  in  the  thought 
that  we  will  soon  have  "Peter"  on  again  in  London. 
What  a  difference  yotir  plays  made  to  my  London  season ! 
I  shall  write  you  again  soon.  "Peter  and  Wendy"  is 
fine.     My  most  affectionate  remembrances. 

To  Sir  James  M.  Barrie,  January,  igi2: 

I  cabled  you  on  receiving  your  letter  because  my  voice 
was  leaving  me  rapidly.  It  was  a  case  of  a  bad  throat, 
and  I  wanted  to  get  some  reply  to  you  quickly.  My 
throat  is  better  now.  I  have  had  about  everything,  and 
I  fear  I  shall  have  to  keep  to  my  rooms  for  some  time 
to  come.     I  hope  to  see  you  around  the  end  of  March. 

I  think  your  Shakespearian  play  is  a  most  wonderful 
work.  I  quite  appreciate  all  you  say  about  its  chances. 
I  rather  felt  that  a  Shakespearian  novelty  of  this  kind 
would  be  most  striking  if  produced  by  Tree  on  top  of 
his  newspaper  claim  of  having  lost  over  40,000  pounds 
on  Shakespeare. 

I  am  all  bungled  up  here.  I  don't  know  quite  what 
to  do  about  London  this  season.  As  I  understood  what 
you  wanted,  I  replied  as  I  did.  You  know  how  I  hate 
to  lose  any  of  your  work  for  anybody  or  anywhere. 
Now  you  understand.  That  is  splendid  about  the 
Phillpotts  play,  and  I  thank  you.  I  am  hoping  about  the 
Pinero  play.     I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you. 

This  is  all  the  voice  I  have  left  for  dictation;  so  I  end 
with  my  best  regards. 

To  David  Belasco,  February ,  igiz: 

This  is  written  for  me.  I  am  still  confined  to  my 
rooms,  and,  although  able  to  sit  up  during  the  day  for 
work,  I  do  not  get  out  in  the  evening.  I  was  glad  to 
hear  from  you,  and  I  hope  you  will  telephone  that  you 
will  come  round  any  old  night  that  suits  you. 

I  wish  you  could  play  "Peter  Grimm"  up  here;  I'd 
like  to  see  it. 

408 


APPENDIX   A 

To  Sir  James  M.  Barrie,  February,  igi2: 

•  I   haven't  written   you  because   lately   I   have  been 

having  a  lot  of  pain.  I  sent  you  papers  which  will  tell 
you  how  wonderfully  your  fine  play — "A  Slice  of  Life" — 
has  been  received.  It  has  caused  a  tremendous  lot  of 
talk;  but  I  just  want  to  tell  you  that  there  is  absolutely 
no  comparison,  in  performance,  as  the  play  is  given  here 
and  the  way  it  was  given  in  London.  Fine  actors,  al- 
though the  London  cast  had,  my  people  here  seem  to 
have  a  better  grasp  of  what  you  wanted.  They  have 
brought  it  out  with  a  sincerity  and  intelligence  of  stroke 
that  is  quite  remarkable.  Ethel  Barrymore  never  did 
better  work.  Her  emotional  breakdown,  tears,  her 
humiliation — when  she  confesses  to  her  husband  that  she 
had  been  a  good  woman  even  before  she  met  him,  all  this 
is  managed  in  a  keener  fashion,  and  with  even  a  finer 
display  of  stage  pathos  than  she  showed  in  her  fine  per- 
formance in  "Mid-Channel." 

As  the  husband,  Jack  Barrymore  is  every  inch  a  John 
Drew.  He  feels,  and  makes  the  audience  feel,  the 
humiliation  of  his  position.  When  he  confesses,  it  is  a 
terrible  confession.  Hattie  Williams,  in  her  odd  manner, 
imitated  Nazimova — as  Nazimova  would  play  a  butler. 

So  these  artists  step  out  into  the  light — before  a 
houseful  of  great  laughter;  one  feels  that  they  have 
struck  the  true  note  of  what  you  meant  your  play  should 
have.  I  think  the  impossible  seriousness  of  triangle 
scenes  in  modem  plays  has  been  swept  off  the  stage 
here — and  "A  SHce  of  Life"  has  done  it.  .  .  . 

The  effect  of  "A  SHce  of  Life"  is  even  greater  and 
more  general  than  "The  Twelve-Pound  Look."  All 
agree  that  each  year  you  have  given  our  stage  the  real 
novelty  of  its  theatrical  season.  And  the  fine  thing  about 
it  is  that  you  have  given  me  the  opportunity  of  putting 
these  before  the  public. 

I  am  getting  along  very  slowly.  I  am  able  to  do  my 
work  in  my  rooms  and  go  on  crutches  for  a  couple  of 
hours  at  rehearsals.  But  always  I  am  in  great  pain. 
27  409 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

I  hope  to  see  you  by  the  end  of  IMarch.  I  don't  know 
whether  you  will  shake  my  hand  or  my  crutch.  But  I 
expect  to  be  there.  We  can  take  up  the  matters  of  "A 
Slice  of  Life,"  etc.,  then. 

I  am  so  dehghted  about  "Peter  Pan"  this  season.  I 
am  wondering  if  you  have  done  anything  about  that 
Shakespeare  play,  which  I  believe  would  be  another  big 
novelty. 

To  Sir  Arthur  Wing  Pinero,  March,  IQ12: 

Perhaps  this  will  reach  you  on  your  return  from  the 
Continent.  I  hope  you  have  made  a  good  trip  and  that 
you  are  happy. 

I  hope  to  give  you  for  the  "Mind  the  Paint  Girl" 
Miss  Billie  Burke,  who  is  an  enormous  attraction  here. 
She  played  in  her  little  piece  from  the  French  last  week 
in  St.  Louis  to  $15,700.  All  the  way  along  the  line  her 
houses  are  sold  out  completely  before  her  appearance. 
Her  play  is  only  a  slight  thing — an  adaptation  from  the 
French,  but  play-goers  seem  to  have  gone  wild  over  her. 
Besides  this,  she  is  not  only  handsome,  but  every  inch 
the  very  personification  of  the  "Paint  Girl."  Moreover, 
she  is  a  genuinely  himian  actress.  It  will  be  a  big  com- 
bination for  me  to  make — the  large  cast  required  for  the 
"Paint  Girl,"  together  with  this  valuable  star  and  your 
great  play. 

To  John  Drew,  March,  igi2: 

I  am  glad  to  hear  from  you  and  to  know  that  you  are 
having  freezingly  cold  weather  in  the  South.  The  joke 
is  on  the  people  here.  They  think  you  are  having  such 
nice  warm  weather. 

I  am  getting  along  pretty  well.  I  am  about  the  same 
as  when  you  left  me  except  that  there  is  great  excitement 
among  my  doctors  because  I  can  now  move  my  small  toe. 

To  Sir  James  M.  Barrie,  September,  191 3: 

"Half  an  Hour"  has  been  going  splendidly  and  had 
a  fine  reception  the  first  night.     The  majority  of  the 

410 


APPENDIX    A 

press  were  splendid  indeed,  one  or  two  felt  an  awakening 
to  see  the  change  in  the  work  that  you  have  been  doing. 
I  am  awfully  pleased  the  way  it  came  out.  I  am  de- 
lighted to  see  that  you  have  added  another  act  to  the 
"Adored  One."  That  makes  it  a  splendid  program 
for  Miss  Adams.  Making  it  a  three-act  play  is  fine  for 
this  side,  as  I  cabled  you.  All  the  Americans  coming 
home  who  have  seen  your  play  are  delighted  with  it  in 
every  way.  Hope  all  is  going  well.  I  am  leaving  to- 
morrow to  meet  Maude  Adams  and  see  the  piece  that 
she  is  now  playing  called  "Peter  Pan."  I  shall  be 
away  from  New  York  for  perhaps  a  week,  and  on  my 
return  I  will  write  you  again  fully. 

To  Alfred  Sutro,  September,  igii: 

You  know  how  happy  your  success  has  made  me. 
You  know  how  I  longed  for  it.  You  know  aU  that  so 
thoroughly  that  words  were  not  necessary.  My  illness 
prevented  me  from  reading  the  play.  I  shall  read  it  in 
eight  or  ten  days.  But  it  is  all  understood,  and  when 
I  get  up  and  out  I  shall  fix  up  all  the  business. 

John  Drew,  who  is  now  free  of  worry  concerning  his 
new  production,  is  to  read  "The  Perplexed  Husband" 
next  week.  I  shall  write  you  then.  But  the  main  thing 
is,  we  have  the  success  and  can  take  care  of  it.  And  I 
am  extremely  happy  over  it. 

To  J .  A.  E.  Malone,  the  Lofidon  manager,  regarding  the  Ameri- 
can presentation  of  "  The  Girl  from  Utah''  and  its  instan- 
taneous success: 

Believe  me  that  the  success  is  due  entirely  to  the 
American  members,  the  American  work,  and,  of  course, 
the  American  stars.  .  .  .  The  English  numbers  went  for 
nothing.     In  short,  the  American  numbers  caught  on. 

To  Haddon  Chambers,  in  London  in  1914: 

There  have  been  a  number  of  failures  already,  but 
they   would   have   failed   if  ever^^   day   was   a   holiday. 
411 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

There  has  been  just  now  a  new  departure  here  in  play- 
writing — a  great  success — "On  Trial."  This  is  by  a  boy 
twenty-one  years  of  age.  The  scenes  are  laid  in  the 
court-room,  and  as  the  witness  gets  to  the  dramatic  part 
of  the  story  the  scene  changes  and  the  characters  are 
shown  to  act  out  the  previous  incidents  of  the  story 
that  is  told  in  court,  and  then  they  go  back  to  the  court 
and  work  that  way  through  the  play.  It  has  been  a 
great  sensation  and  is  doing  great  business. 

Concerning  one  of  his  English  productions  in  London,  he  writes 
Dion  Boucicault: 

I  want  on  my  side  to  have  you  understand,  however, 
that  as  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  am  keeping  the  theater 
open  for  the  company  and  the  employees,  and  not  for 
myself.  I  should  have  closed  positively  if  I  had  not 
my  people  in  mind.     That  was  my  only  reason.  .  .  . 

To  Dion  Boucicault: 

It  seems  to  me  that  there  are  too  many  English  actors 
coming  over  here,  and  I  fear  some  of  them  will  be  in 
distress,  because  there  don't  seem  to  be  positions  enough 
for  all  that  are  coming,  and  people  are  wondering  why 
so  many  are  coming  instead  of  enlisting.  It  might  be 
well  for  you  to  inform  some  of  these  actors  that  the 
chances  are  not  so  great  now,  because  there  are  so  many 
here  on  the  waiting-list.  I  use  a  great  many,  but  I  also 
use  a  great  many  Americans,  as  merit  is  the  chief  thing. 

To  Otis  Skinner: 

I  felt  all  that  you  now  feel  about  the  vision  effect  when 
I  saw  the  dress  rehearsal.  It  looked  to  me  like  a  magic- 
lantern  scene  that  would  be  given  in  the  cellar  of  a 
Sunday-school. 

To  Dion  Boucicault,  October,  1914: 

I  am  despondent  as  to  what  to  do  in  London.  I'd 
rather  close.  -  I  don't  want  to  put  on  things  at  losses, 

412 


APPENDIX   A 

because  I  do  not  wish  to  send  money  to  cover  losses  to 
London  now.  The  rates  of  exchange  are  something  ter- 
rific, and  therefore  I  don't  want  to  be  burdened  with  this 
extra  expense.  Twelve  pounds  on  every  hundred  pounds 
is  too  much  for  any  business  man  to  handle.  Over  here 
we  are  feeling  the  effects  of  the  war,  but  the  big  things 
(and  I  am  glad  to  say  I  am  in  some  of  them)  are  all  right. 

To  an  English  actor  about  to  enlist  in  the  army: 

I  have  your  letter.  I  am  awfully  sorry,  but  I  haven't 
anything  to  offer.  So  therefore  I  congratulate  the  army 
on  securing  your  services. 

Declining  an  invitation  for  a  public  dinner: 

I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  very  nice  invitation 
to  be  present  at  the  dinner,  but  I  regret  that,  first,  I 
do  not  speak  at  dinners,  and,  next,  I  do  not  attend  dinners. 

One  of  the  lines  that  Frohman  wrote  very  often,  and  which  came 
to  be  somewhat  hackneyed,  was  to  to  his  general  manager,  Alf 
Hayman.     It  was: 

Send  me  a  thousand  pounds  to  London. 

To  W.  Lestocq,  in  IQ14,  regarding  another  manager: 

I  notice  that  Mr.  Z has  a  man  who  can  sign  for 

royalties  I  send  him.  I  wonder  why  he  can't  find  some 
one  to  sign  for  royalties  that  are  due  me! 

Of  a  production  waiting  to  come  to  New  York: 

Broadway  may  throw  things  when  we  play  the  piece 
here,  still  I  have  failed  before  on  Broadway. 

To  James  B.  Fagan,  in  London,  December,  191 2,  referring  to 
his  production  of  ''Bella  Donna''  in  this  country: 

Mr.  Bryant  is  giving  an  exceptionally  good  perform- 
ance of  the  part,  and  is  so  much  taken  with  my  theater 
and  company  that  I  have  the  newspapers'  word  that 
he  married  my  star  (Nazimova). 
413 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

To  Alfred  Sutro,  November,  191 4: 

It  seems  to  me  that  a  strong  himian  play,  with  good 
characters  (and  clean),  is  the  thing  over  here;  and  now, 
my  dear  Sutro,  I  do  believe  that  throughout  the  United 
States  a  play  really  requires  a  star  artist,  man  or  woman 
— woman  for  choice.  .  .  . 

To  W.  Lestocq,  in  November,  1914: 

I  have  just  returned  from  Chicago,  where  Miss  Adams 
has  a  very  happy  and  delightful  program  in  "Leonora" 
and  "The  Ladies'  Shakespeare."  "The  Ladies'  Shake- 
speare" is  delightful,  but  very  slight.  The  little  scenes 
that  Barrie  has  written  that  are  spoken  before  the  cur- 
tain are  awfully  well  received,  but  the  scenes  from 
Shakespeare's  play  when  they  are  acted  are  very  short 
and  the  whole  thing  is  played  in  less  than  an  hour.  Miss 
Adams,  of  course,  is  delightful  in  it,  and  it  goes  with  a 
sparkle  with  her;  and  as  it  is  so  slight  and  so  much 
Shakespeare  and  so  little  Barrie,  although  the  Barrie  part 
in  front  of  the  curtain  is  fine,  I  cannot  say  how  it  would 
go  with  your  audiences  [referring  to  the  London  public]. 
I  am  happy  in  the  thought,  however,  that  Barrie  has  fur- 
nished Miss  Adams  with  a  program  that  will  last  her 
all  through  the  season  and  well  into  the  summer. 

To  H addon  Chambers: 

Hubert  Henry  Davies's  "Outcast"  has  made  a  hit,  but 
he  really  has  a  wonderful  woman — I  should  say  the  best 
young  emotional  actress  on  the  stage — in  Miss  Fergu- 
son.    So  he  is  in  for  a  good  thing. 

To  Cyril  Matide,  in  Boston,  November,  1914: 

Yours  to  Chicago  has  just  reached  me  here  in  New 
York.  As  soon  as  I  heard  that  you  were  going  to  write 
me  to  Chicago  I  immediately  left  for  New  York. 

I  am  glad  you  are  doing  so  very  big  in  Boston.  They 
say  you  are  going  to  stay  all  season.  Things  are  terrible 
with  me  in  London,  and  the  interests  I  had  outside  of 

414 


APPENDIX   A 

London  have  been  shocking.  I  am  hoping  and  believing, 
however,  that  all  will  be  well  again  on  the  little  island — 
the  island  that  I  am  so  devoted  to. 

In  this  letter,  it  is  worth  adding,  Frohman  made  one  of  his 
very  rare  confessions  of  bad  business.  He  only  liked  to  write 
about  his  affairs  when  they  were  booming. 

To  Margaret  Mayo  Selwyn,  New  York,  November  jo,  IQ14: 

I  was  glad  to  receive  your  letter.  I  have  been  thinking 
about  the  revival  of  the  play  you  mentioned.  In  fact, 
the  thought  has  been  a  long  one — three  years — ^but  I 
haven't  reached  it  yet.  I  have  been  thinking  more  about 
the  new  play  you  are  writing  for  me.  I  know  you  now 
have  a  lot  of  theaters,  a  lot  of  managers,  and  a  lot  of 
husbands  and  things  like  that,  but,  all  the  same,  I  want 
that  play.     My  best  regards. 

Frohman  loved  sweets.  He  went  to  considerable  trouble  smne- 
times  to  get  the  particular  candy  he  wanted.  Here  is  a  letter 
that  he  wrote  to  William  Newman,  then  manager  oj  the  Maude 
Adams  Company,  in  care  of  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House, 
St.  Paul: 

Will  you  go  to  George  Smith's  Chocolate  Works,  6th 
and  Robert  Streets,  St.  Paul,  and  get  four  packages  of 
Smith's  Delicious  Cream  Patties  and  send  them  to  me 
to  the  Knickerbocker  Hotel,  New  York? 

Frohman  had  his  own  way  of  acknowledging  courtesies.  A 
London  friend,  Reginald  Nicholson,  circulation  manager  of 
the  Times,  sent  him  some  flowers  to  the  Savoy.  He  received 
this  reply  from  the  manager,  scrawled  with  blue  pencil  on  a 
sheet  of  hotel  paper: 

A  lot  of  thanks  from  Savoy  Court  81. 

Frohman 's  apartment  for  years  at  the  Savoy  Hotel  was 
Savoy  Court  81. 

415 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

To  Paul  Pottery  written  from  the  Blackstone,  Chicago,  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1 91 5: 

Dear  Paul: 

I  received  your  telegram,  and  was  glad  to  get  it.  The 
sun  is  shining  here  and  all  is  well.  I  hope  to  see  you 
Saturday  night  at  the  Knickerbocker. 

C.F. 

This  is  in  every  way  a  typical  Charles  Frohman  personal 
note.  He  usually  had  one  thing  to  say  and  said  it  in  the 
fewest  possible  words. 

One  day  Frohman  sent  a  certain  play  to  his  brother  Daniel  for 
criticism.  On  receiving  an  unfavorable  estimate  of  the  work 
he  wrote  him  the  following  memorandum: 

Who  are  you  and  who  am  I  that  can  decide  the  finan- 
cial value  of  this  play?  The  most  extraordinary  plays 
succeed,  and  many  that  deserve  a  better  fate  fail;  so 
how  are  we  to  know  until  after  we  test  a  play  before  the 
public  ? 

In  reply  to  Charles  Burnham's  invitation  to  attend  the  Theatri- 
cal Managers'  dinner,  he  wrote: 

Thank  you  very  much,  but  my  condition  is  still  such 
that  my  game  leg  would  require  at  least  four  seats,  and 
as  we  now  have  at  least  several  managers  to  every  theater, 
and  several  theaters  in  every  block,  I  haven't  the  heart 
to  accept  the  needed  room,  and  thus  deprive  them  of 
any. 

Writing  to  E.  H.  Sothern  and  Julia  Marlowe,  in  April,  1915, 
he  said: 

I  wonder  why  you  don't  both  sail  with  me  May  i 
(Lusitania).  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  when  you  con- 
sider all  the  stars  I  have  managed,  mere  submarines 
make  me  smile.  But  most  affectionate  regards  to  you 
both. 

416 


APPENDIX    A 

Writing  to  John  Drew,  who  was  willing  to  prolong  his  touring 
season  in  1915,  he  says: 

All  right.  Why  a  young  man  like  you  cares  to  continue 
on  his  long  tours,  I  don't  know.  I  hope  to  get  away 
on  May  ist  and  to  return  shortly  after  you  reach  New 
York.  Am  in  quest  of  something  for  you.  Our  last  talk 
before  you  left  gave  me  much  happiness. 

Refusing  to  hook  his  attractions  in  a  city  for  a  week  where  three 
nights  were  sufficient,  he  said: 

My  stars  like  week  stands,  but  they  don't  like  weak 
business. 

To  H addon  Chambers,  in  London: 

I  am  hoping  to  get  off  on  the  Lusitania.  It  seems  to 
be  the  best  ship  to  sail  on.     I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you. 

Writing  to  S.  F.  Nixon,  a  business  colleague,  regarding  Miss 
Barrymore  in  ''The  Shadow'': 

You  are  quite  right  as  to  the  play  being  terribly  somber. 
I  thought  it  a  good  idea  to  show  what  a  representative 
American  actress  of  serious  parts  she  was;  so  that  next 
season  we  will  offer  a  contrast,  and  make  the  audiences 
laugh  so  much  that  they  will  be  compelled  to  crowd 
the  theater.  She  will  play  then  as  humorous  a  part 
("Our  Mrs.  McChesney  ")  as  she  did  so  earnestly  a  serious 
one. 

To  J.  C.  O'Laughlin,  of  the  Chicago  Herald: 

We  managers  have  certain  ideas  about  plays.  We 
produce  a  play  and  find  our  ideas  and  opinions  often 
wrong.  Our  opinions  are  only  sound,  I  think,  as  far  as 
the  question  of  a  play  being  actable  is  concerned.  My 
sympathetic  feeling  for  all  writers  makes  it  very  hard 
to  venture  an  opinion  detrimental  to  their  work,  es- 
pecially as  we  find  we  are  frequently  wrong. 
417 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

To  one  of  his  leading  women,  April,  1915: 

I  appreciate  the  expression  of  your  affection.  It  almost 
makes  me  turn  westward  instead  of  eastward.  However, 
we  must  do  our  jobs,  and  so  I  do  mine.  I  am  sailing 
Saturday  (per  Lusitanid) .  Heaven  only  will  know  where 
I  am  in  July.  I  cannot  tell  this  year  anything  about 
anything. 

To  Booth  Tarkington: 

I  don't  suppose  you  have  any  idea  of  coming  to  New 
York.  There  are  a  lot  of  fine  things  here  worth  your 
while,  including  myself. 

Concerning  Hubert  Henry  Davies,  the  author  of  "Outcast," 
Miss  Elsie  Ferguson's  very  successful  vehicle: 

He  is  a  delightful,  charming,  simple,  splendid  fellow. 
You  will  be  delighted  with  him,  and  Miss  Ferguson  will 
be  more  than  delighted  with  him,  because  he  will  be  so 
dehghted  with  her.  It  is  a  fine  thing  to  have  so  nice  a 
man  as  Davies  arrive,  and  entirely  misunderstanding  the 
person  he  is  to  rehearse  because  the  surprise  will  be  all  the 
greater.  It  pleases  me,  knowing  what  a  fine  emotional  (one 
of  the  very  best  in  the  world)  young  actress  our  star  is. 

To  Harry  Powers,  manager  of  Powers  Theater,  Chicago,  where 
his  play  ''The  Beautiful  Adventure,"  with  Ann  Murdoch, 
was  then  running: 

Regarding  "The  Beautiful  Adventure,"  if  I  am  doing 
wrong  in  making  a  clean  situation  out  of  one  that  is  not 
clean,  I  am  going  to  do  wrong.  The  theater-going  public 
in  the  cities  may  not  always  get  a  good  play  from  me, 
but  they  trust  me,  and  I  shall  try  and  retain  that  trust. 
We  may  not  get  the  same  amount  of  money,  but  if  we 
can  live  through  it  we  will  get  a  lot  more  satisfaction  for 
those  we  like  and  for  ourselves. 

Some  of  the  last  letters  written  by  Frohman  were  filled  with  a 
curious  tenderness  and  afection.     In  the  light  of  what  hap- 

418 


APPENDIX    A 

pened  after  he  sailed  they  seem  to  he  overcast  with  a  strange 
foreboding  of  his  doom.  The  most  striking  example  of  this 
is  furnished  in  a  letter  he  wrote  to  Henry  Miller  on  April 
2gth,  a  few  days  before  he  went  aboard  the  Lusitania.  He  had 
not  written  to  Miller  for  a  year,  yet  this  is  what  he  said: 

Dear  Henry:  I  am  going  to  London  Saturday  a.m. 
I  want  to  say  good-by  to  you  with  this — and  tell  you  how 
glad  I  am  you've  had  a  good  season.   . 

Affectionately, 

C.  F. 

Miller  was  immensely  touched  by  this  communication.  He 
wired  to  his  son  Gilbert  to  find  out  what  steamer  Frohman 
was  taking,  and  send  him  a  wireless.  This  message  was 
probably  the  last  ever  received  by  Frohman,  for  no  other 
similar  telegram  was  sent  him  in  care  of  the  Lusitania. 

The  last  letter  written  by  Frohman,  before  leaving  the  Hotel 
Knickerbocker  on  the  morning  the  Lusitania  sailed,  was  to 
his  intimate  friend  and  companion  Paid  Potter.  Potter, 
who  had  telephoned  that  he  expected  to  meet  him  at  the  steamer, 
was  much  depressed,  which  explains  one  of  the  sentences  in 
Frohman's  letter: 

Saturday  a.m..  May  i,  191 5. 
Dear  Paul:    We  had  a  fine  time  this  winter.     I  hope 
all  will  go  well  with  you.     And  I  think  luck  is  coming  to 
you.     I  hope  another  "Trilby."     It's  fine  of  you  to  come 
to  the  steamer  with  all  these  dark,  sad  conditions. 

C.  F. 

On  his  way  to  the  Lusitania  Frohman  stopped  for  a  mo- 
ment at  his  office  in  the  Empire  Theater.  There  he  dictated 
a  note  to  Porter  Emerson  Browne,  the  playwright.  It  was 
his  last  dictation.  The  note  merely  said,  "Good-by.  Keep 
me  posted."  He  referred  to  a  new  play  that  Browne  was 
writing  for  him. 


j4/ipendix  B 


COMPLETE  CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  THE  FROHMAN  PRODUCTIONS 

ALTOGETHER  Charles  Frohnian  produced  more  than 
y^  five  hundred  plays — a  greater  number  than  any  other 
-^  J.  manager  of  his   time.     The   Hst   of   his   productions, 
therefore,  is  really  a  large  part  of  the  record  of  the 
English-speaking  stage  during  the  last  quarter  of  a  century. 
In  the  list  which  follows,  the  name  of  the  star  or  stars  ap- 
pear immediately  after  the  title  of  the  piece.     Except  when 
otherwise  indicated,  the  theater  mentioned  is  in  New  York. 
Here  is  the  complete  Hst  of  Frohman's  productions  in 
chronological  order: 


PRODUCTIONS    IN    AMERICA 


I^ 


PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

The  Stranglers  of  Paris November  12  .  .New  Park 


1884 


The  Pulse  of  New   York May  10 Star 

Caprice  (Minnie  Maddern) November  6 . .  .  Indianapolis 


1885 


Victor  Durand Road  tour  with  Wallack's  Theater  Co. 

Moths 

Lady  Clare 

Diplomacy 

La  Belle  Russe 

The  World 

421 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 
1886 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

T]ie  Golden  Giant April  11 Fifth  Avenue 

(McKee  Rankin) 

A  Xoy  Pistol  (Tony  Hart) February  20 . .  .  New  York  Comedy 

A  ^Wall  Street  Bandit September  20 . .  Standard 

A  ^Daughter  of  Ireland October  18 ...  .  Standard 

^   (Georgia  Cayvan) 
The  Jilt  (Dion  Boucicault) October  29 ... .  Standard 


1887 


Baron  Rudolph October  24 ...  .  Fourteenth  Street 

She November  29. .  Niblo's  Garden 

1888 

Held  by  the  Enemy Road  tour 


1889 


Shenandoah September  9 . . .  Star 


i8go 


The  Private  Secretary August  26 Grand  Opera  House 

All  the  Comforts  of  Home September  8. .  .Proctor's   23d   Street 

Men  and  Women October  20 ...  .  Lyceum 


1891 


Mr.  Wilkinson's  Widows March  30 Proctor's   23d   Street 

Diplomacy June  12 Los  Angeles,  Cal. 

Jane August  3 Madison  Square 

Tlie  Solicitor  (Henry  E.  Dixey) .  .September  8. .  .Hermann's 

Thermidor October  12 Proctor's   23d   Street 

The  Man  with  a  Hundred  Heads.  .November  2. .  .Hermann's 

(Henry  E.  Dixey) 
Miss  Helyett  (Mrs.  Leslie  Carter) .  November  3 . .  .  Star 

The  Lost  Paradise November  16.  .Proctor's    23d    Street 

The  Junior  Partner December  8 .  .  .  Hermann's 

422 


APPENDIX    B 


i8g2 


PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

Glorianna February  15. .  .Hermann's 

Settled  Out  of  Court August  8 Hermann's 

The  Masked  Ball  (John  Drew) . .  .  October  3 Palmer's 


iSgs 


The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me January  25 Empire 

Ninety  Days February  6 . . .  .  Broadway 

Liberty  Hall August  21 Empire 

Fanny September  4 . . .  Standard 

The  Other  Man September  4 . . .  Garden 

Lady  Windermere's  Fan October Road  tour 

Charley's  A  unt October  2 Standard 

The  Younger  Son October  20 ...  .  Empire 

The  Councillor's    Wife November  6. .  .Empire 

Aristocracy November  14 .  . Palmer's 


i8p4 


Sowing  the  Wind January  2 Empire 

Poor  Girls January  22. .  .  .American 

The  Butterflies  (John  Drew) February  5 Palmer's 

Gudgeons  and  The  Luck  of  Roaring 

Camp May  14 Empire 

The  Bauble  Shop  (John  Drew) ...  September  11..  Empire 

The  New  Boy September  17..  Standard 

Too  Much  Johnson November  26 . .  Standard 

The  Masqueraders  (John  Drew) .  .  December  3 .  .  .  Empire 
The  Fatal  Card December  31 .  .  Palmer's 


i^9S 


The  Foundling February  25. .  .Hoyt's 

John  A  'Dreams March  18 Empire 

The  Importance  of  Being  Earnest .  April  22 Empire 

The  Sporting  Duchess August  29 Academy  of  Music 

The  City  of  Pleasure September  2 . . .  Empire 

That  Imprudent  Young    Couple .  .  .  September  22 . .  Empire 
(John  Drew) 

The  Gay  Parisians September  23.  .Hoyt's 

Christopher  Jr.  (John  Drew) October  7 Empire 

423 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 


PLAY 


DATE 


THEATER 


Denise  (Olga  Nethersole) December  2  .  .  .  Empire 

Frou  Frou  (Olga  Nethersole) December  5  .  .  .  Empire 

Camille  (Olga  Nethersole) December  9 .  .  .  Empire 

Carmen  (Olga  Nethersole) December  24 .  .  Empire 


lSp6 


Michael  and  His  Lost  Angel January  15. .  . 

The  Squire  of  Dames  (John  Drew) .  January  20. .  . 

A   Woman's  Reason January  27. .  . 

A  Social  Highwayman February  3 . .  . 

(E.  M.  and  Joseph  Holland) 

Marriage February  17 . . 

Bohemia March  9 

Thoroughbred April  20 

Roseinary  (John  Drew) August  31.... 

The  Liars September  7 . . 

Albert  Chevalier. September  7. . 

Sue  (Annie  Russell) September  1 5 , 

Secret  Service October  5  .  .  .  . 

Honors  Are  Easy November  9. . 

Two  Little   Vagrants November  23. 

Under  the  Red  Robe December  28 . 


Empire 
,  Empire 
Empire 
.  Garrick 

Empire 
.  Empire 
,  Garrick 
,  Empire 
,  Hoyt's 
Garrick 
.Hoyt's 
,  Garrick 

Montauk,  Brooklyn 
Academy  of  Music 
Empire 


1897 


Heartsease  (Henry  Miller) January  11....  Garden 

Spiritissime February  22 . .  .  Knickerbocker 

Never  Again March  8 Garrick 

Courted  Into  Court August  30 Newark,  N.  J. 

The  Little  Minister September  27.  .Empire 

(Maude  Adams) 

The  Proper  Caper October  4 Hoyt's 

The     First    Born    and     A     Night 

Session October  5 Manhattan 

A  Marriage  of  Convenience November  8. .  .Empire 

(John  Drew) 
The  White  Heather November  22 . .  Academy  of  Music 


1898 


Salt  of  the  Earth January  3 Wallack's 

The  Conquerors January  4 Empire 

The  Circus  Girl January  17 Columbia,  Brooklyn 

424 


APPENDIX    B 


PLAY 


DATE 


Oh,  Susannah February  7. .  . 

One  Summer's  Day  (John  Drew).  .February  14. . 

The  Master  (Henry  Miller) February  15.  . 

Little  Miss  Nobody September  5. . 

A  Brace  of  Partridges September  7 . . 

The  Countess   Valeska September  26. 

(Julia  Marlowe) 

On  and  Off October  17 .  .  . 

Catherine  (Annie  Russell) October  24 .  .  . 

As   You  Like  It  (Julia  Marlowe) .  November  7.. 

Phroso December  26 . 

Ingomar  (Julia  Marlowe) December  26 . 


THEATER 

.  Hoyt's 

Wallack's 

,  Garden 

,  Philadelphia 

.  Madison  Square 

.Troy,  N.  Y. 

Madison  Square 
,  Garrick 

Omaha,  Nebraska 
Empire 
Indianapolis 


1899 


Because  She  Loved  Him  So January  16. .  .  .Madison  Square 

Her  Atonement February  13. .  .Academy  of  Music 

Lord  and  Lady  Algy February  14. .  .Empire 

The  Cuckoo April  3 Wallack's 

Colinette  (Julia  Marlowe) April  10 Kjiickerbocker 

Romeo  and  Juliet May  8 Empire 

(Maude  Adams) 

His  Excellency  the  Governor May  22 Empire 

Hamlet  (Henry  Miller) August  i San  Francisco 

The  Girl  from  Maxim's August  29 Criterion 

Miss  Hobbs  (Annie  Russell) September  7 . . .  Lyceum 

The  Tyranny  of  Tears September  11..  Empire 

(John  Drew) 
The  Only  Way  (Henry  Miller) .  .  .  September  16..  Herald  Square 
Barbara    Fritchie October  23  .  .  .  .Criterion 

(Julia  Marlowe) 
Sherlock  Holmes  (WilHam  Gillette) .  November  6 .  .  Garrick 

Make  Way  for  the  Ladies November  13.  .Madison  Square 

My  Lady's   Lord December  25 .  .  Empire 


1900 


Brother  Officers January  15. 

The  Surprises  of  Love January  22. 

Coralie  &"  Co.,  Dressmakers February  5. 

Hearts  A  re  Trumps February  2 1 

My  Daughter -in- Law February  26 

A    Man   and   His    Wife   and    The 

Bugle  Call April  2 Empire 

The  Tree  of  Knowledge July  2 San  Francisco 

(Henry  Miller) 

28  425 


.  Empire 
.  Lyceum 
.Madison  Square 
.  Garden 
.  Lyceum 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

A  Royal  Family  (Annie   Russell) .  September  5 . .  .  Lyceum 

The  Rose  of  Persia September  6 . . .  Daly's 

The  Husband  of  Leontine September  8 . . .  Madison  Square 

Richard  Carvel  (John  Drew) September  11..  Empire 

David  Harum  (W.  H.  Crane) .  .  .  .October  i Garrick 

Self  and  Lady October  8 Madison  Square 

L  Aiglon  (Maude  Adams) October  22  .  .  .  .Knickerbocker 


igoi 


Mrs.  Dane's  Defense January  7 Empire 

The  Girl  from  Up  There January  8 Herald  Square 

(Edna  May) 
My  Lady  Dainty January  8 Madison  Square 

(Herbert  Kelcey  and  Effie  Shannon) 
Captain  Jinks  (Ethel  Barrymore) .  February  4 .  .  .  .  Garrick 

Under  Two  Flags February  5 . .  .  .  Garden 

The  Lash  of  a  Whip '.  .  .February  25.  .  .Lyceum 

To  Have  and  To  Hold March  4 Knickerbocker 

Manon  Lescaut March  19 Wallack's 

(Kelcey  and  Shannon) 

Are   You  a  Mason? April  i Wallack's 

A  Royal  Rival August  26 Criterion 

(William  Faversham) 
The  Second  in  Command September  2 . . .  Empire 

(John  Drew) 
A  Message  from  Mars October  7 Garrick 

(Charles  Hawtrey) 

Ehen  Holden October  28 ...  .  Savoy 

Quality  Street  (Maude  Adams) .  .  .  November  11..  Knickerbocker 
Alice  of  Old   Vincennes December  2  .  .  .  Garden 

(Virginia  Harned) 
The  Girl  and  the  Judge December  4.  .  .Lyceum 

(Annie  Russell) 

The  Wilderness December  23  .  .  Empire 

Sweet  and  Twenty December  30 .  .  Madison  Square 


jg02 


Colorado January  12 ...  .  Grand  Opera  House 

The  Twin  Sister March  3 Empire 

Sky  Farm March  17 Garrick 

The  New  Clown August  25 Garrick 

The   Mummy   and  the   Humming- 

Bird  (John  Drew) September  4 .  . .  Empire 

426 


APPENDIX    B 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

There's  Many  a  Slip September  15.  .Garrick 

Aunt  Jeanne September  16.  .Garden 

(Mrs.  Patrick  Campbell) 

Iris  (Virginia  Harned) September  22.  .Criterion 

Two  Schools September  29 . .  Madison  Square 

The  Second  Mrs.   Tanqueray October  6 Garden 

(Mrs.  Patrick  Campbell) 
A   Country  Mouse  and   Carrots ....  October  6 Savoy 

(Ethel  Barrymore) 
Everyman October  12  ...  .  Mendelssohn  Hall 

(Edith  Wynne  Mathison  and  Charles  Rann  Kennedy) 
The  Joy  of  Living October  23  ...  .  Garden 

(Mrs.  Patrick  Campbell) 
Imprudence  (William  Faversham) .  November  7 .  .  .  Lyceum 
The  Girl  with  the  Green  Eyes December  25 .  .Savoy 

(Clara  Bloodgood) 


ipoj 


A  Bird  in  the  Cage January  12.  .  .  .Bijou 

The   Unforeseen January  12 ...  .  Empire 

Mice  and  Men  (Annie  Russell). .  .January  1 9 ....  Garrick 

Three  Little  Maids  (G.  P.  Huntley) .  August  31 Daly's 

Ulysses September  14.  .Garden 

Drink  (Charles  Warner) September  14.  .Academy  of  Music 

The  Man  from  Blankley's September  14.  .Criterion 

(Charles  Hawtrey) 
Captain  Dieppe  (John  Drew) ....  September  14..  Herald  Square 
Lady   Rose's  Daughter September  24.  .Garrick 

(Fay  Davis) 
The  Spenders    (W.  H.  Crane) .  .  .  .October  5 Savoy 


The  Best  of  Friends October  19 . 

Cousin  Kate  (Ethel  Barrymore) ..  October  19. 
Charlotte  Wiehe  (French  Players) .  .October  21 . 
TJie  Girl  from  Kay's November  2 

(Sam  Bernard) 
The  Pretty  Sister  of  Jose November  9 .  .  .  Empire 

(Maude  Adams) 
The  Admirable    Crichton November  16.  .Lyceum 

(William  Gillette) 
Elizabeth's  Prisoner November  23.  .Criterion 

(William  Faversham) 
Whitewashing   Julia December  2  .  .  .  Garrick 

(Fay  Davis) 

The  Other  Girl December  23 .  .  Criterion 

Glad  of  It  (Millie  James) Decem.ber  28 .  .  Savoy 

427 


.Academy  of  Music 
.  Hudson 
.  Vaudeville 
.Herald  Square 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 


1904 


PLAY 


DATE 


My  Lady  Molly  (Andrew  Mack) .  January  4 . .  .  . 
The   Light   that   Lies   in    Woman's 

Eyes  (Virginia  Harned) January  25. .  . 

The   Younger  Mrs.  Parting January  25.  .  . 

(Annie  Russell) 
Man  Proposes  (Henry  Miller) .  .  .  .March  14.  .  .  , 

The  Dictator  (William  Collier) . . .  .April  4 

Saucy  Sally  (Charles  Hawtrey) . . .  April  4 

Camille April  18 

(Margaret  Anglin  and  Henry  Miller) 
When  Knighthood  Was  in  Flower .  May  2 

(Julia  Marlowe) 

Yvette  (Hattie  Williams) May  12 

Ben  Greet  Players October  5  .  .  . . 

The  School  Girl  (Edna  May) September  i . . 

The  Duke  of  Klliecrankie September  5 . . 

(John  Drew) 

Letty  (William  Faversham) September  12. 

Business  is  Business September  19. 

(W.  H.  Crane) 
The  Coronet  of  the  Duchess September  2 1 . 

(Clara  Bloodgood) 
The  Sorceress October  10 .  .  . 

(Mrs.  Patrick  Campbell) 
Joseph  Entangled  (Henry  Miller).  .October  10.  .  . 
Shakespearian  Repertory October  17... 

(Julia  Marlowe  and  E.  H.  Sothern) 
Granny  (Mrs.  G.  H.  Gilbert).  .  .  .October  24.  .  . 
David  Garrick November  14. 

(Charles  Wyndham) 
The  Rich  Mrs.  Repton November  14. 

(Fay  Davis) 

Sunday  (Ethel  Barrymore) November  14. 

Brother  Jacques  (Annie  Russell) .  .  December  5 .  . 
Mrs.  Goringe's  Necklace December  12. 

(Charles  Wyndham) 
A   Wife  Without  a  Smile December  19 . 

(Margaret  Illington) 


THEATER 
.  Daly's 

.  Criterion 
.  Garrick 

.  Hudson 
.  Criterion 
.  Lyceum 
,  Hudson 

.  Empire 

,  Knickerbocker 


jpos 


Cousin  Billy  (Francis  Wilson) 

The  Case  of  Rebellious  Susan. 

(Charles  Wyndham) 


.January  2. 
.January  9. 

428 


.  Daly's 
.  Empire 

.  Hudson 
.  Hudson 

.  Garrick 

•  New  Amsterdam 

.  Garrick 
Knickerbocker 

,  Lyceum 
Lyceum 

Criterion 

Hudson 
Garrick 
Lyceum 

Criterion 


.  Criterion 
.  Lyceum 


APPENDIX    B 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

Mrs.  LeffingwelV s  Boots January  ii . .  .  .Savoy 

Friquet  (Marie  Doro) January  30. .  .  .Savoy 

'Op  0'  My  Thumb February  6 . .  .  .  Empire 

(Maude  Adams) 

Jinny  the  Carrier  (Annie  Russell)  .April  10 Criterion 

The  Freedom  of  Suzanne April  17 Empire 

(Marie  Tempest) 

The  Rollicking  Girl May  i Herald  Square 

(Sam  Bernard) 
A  Doll's  House May  2 . , Lyceum . 

(Ethel  Barrymore) 
The  Catch  of  the  Season August  28 Daly's 

(Edna  May) 

De  Lancey  (John  Drew) September  4 . . .  Empire 

The  Beauty  and  the  Barge September  6 . . .  Lyceum 

(Nat  C.  Goodwin) 
Just  Out  of  College September  27.  .Lyceum 

(Joseph  Wheelock) 
Shakespearian  Repertory October  16.  .  .  .Knickerbocker 

(Julia  Marlowe  and  E.  H.  Sothern) 

Wolfville  (Nat  C.  Goodwin) October  20 ...  .  Philadelphia 

Peter  Pan  (Maude  Adams) November  6. .  .Empire 

On  the  Quiet  (William  Collier).  .  .November  27.  .Criterion 

La  Belle  Marseillaise November  27.  .Knickerbocker 

(Virginia  Harned) 
Alice  Sit  By  the  Fire  and  Pantaloon .  December  25 .  .  Criterion 

(Ethel  Barrymore) 


igo6 


Mispah January  22 ...  .  Baltimore 

The  Duel  (Otis  Skinner) February  12. .  .Criterion 

The  Mountain  Climber March  5 Criterion 

(Francis  Wilson) 

The  American  Lord  (W.  H.  Crane). April  16 Hudson 

The  Little  Father  of  the  Wilderness .  A.^r\\  16 Criterion 

(Francis  Wilson) 
The  Little  Cherub August  6 Criterion 

(Hattie  Williams) 
The  Price  of  Money August  29 Garrick 

(W.  H.  Crane) 
The  Hypocrites August  30 Hudson 

(Doris  Keane  and  Richard  Bennett) 

The  Judge  and  Jury September  i . . .  Wallack's 

His  House  in  Order  (John  Drew) .  September  3 . . .  Empire 

Clarice  (William  Gillette) October  15.  .  .  .Garrick 

429 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 


PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

The  House  of  Mirth  (Fay  Davis) .  .October  22  .  .  .  .Savoy 

(William  Collier) 
The  Rich  Mr.  Hoggenheimer October  22 .  .  .  .Wallack's 

(Sam  Bernard) 
Caught  in  the  Rain December  31 .  .  Garrick 


1907 


[8 


The  Truth  (Clara  Bloodgood) ....  January  7 . 
Captain    Brassbound' s  Conversion  .Jannary  28 

(Ellen  Terry) 
Good  Hope  and  Nance  Oldfield ....  February  i 

(Ellen  Terry) 
The  Silver  Box  (Ethel  Barrymore) .  March 
When  Knights  Were  Bold August  20 

(Francis  Wilson) 
The  Dairymaids August  26 

(Julia  Sanderson  and  G.  P.  Huntley) 

My  Wife  (John  Drew) August  31 

The  Thief September 

(Margaret  lUington  and  Kyrle  Bellew) 
The  Morals  of  Marcus November 

(Marie  Doro) 

The  Toymaker  of  Nuremberg November  25 

Her  Sister  (Ethel  Barrymore) ....  December  25 
Miss  Hook  of  Holland December  31 

(Thomas  Wise) 


Criterion 
Empire 

.  Empire 

,  Empire 
,  Garrick 

.  Criterion 

.  Empire 
.  Lyceum 


8 . .  Criterion 

,  Garrick 
Hudson 
,  Criterion 


ipoS 


The  Jesters  (Maude  Adams) January  13 Empire 

Twenty  Days  in  the  Shade January  20 Savoy 

(Pauline  Frederick  and  Richard  Bennett) 
The  Honor  of  the  Family February  17. .  .Hudson 

(Otis  Skinner) 

The  Irish  Players February  17. .  .Savoy 

Father  and  the  Boys  (W.  H.  Crane)  .  March  2 Empire 

Toddles  (John  Barrymore) March  16 Garrick 

Love  Watches  (Billie  Burke) August  27 Lyceum 

The  Mollusc September  2  .  .  .Garrick 

(Alexandra  Carlisle  and  Joseph  Coyne) 
The  Girls  of  Gottenberg September  2 . . .  Knickerbocker 

(Gertie  Millar) 
Diana  of  Bobson's September  5 . . .  Savoy 

(Carlotta  Nilsson) 
Fluffy  Ruffles  (Hattie  Williams) ..  September  7 ...  Criterion 

430 


APPENDIX    B 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

Jack  Straw  (John  Drew) September  14.  .Empire 

Miss  Hook  of  Holland October  2 Albany 

(Frank  Daniels) 

Samson  (William  Gillette) October  19.  .  .  .Criterion 

Lady  Frederick  (Ethel  Barrymore) .  November  9 . .  .  Hudson 
The  Patriot  (William  Collier) ....  November  23 .  .  Garrick 

The  Sicilian  Players November  23.  .  Broadway 

What  Every  Woman  Knows December  23 .  .  Empire 

(Maude  Adams) 


ipop 


Kitty  Grey  (G.  P.  Huntley) January  25. .  .  .New  Amsterdam 

The  Richest  Girl  (Marie  Doro) .  .  .  March  i Criterion 

An  Englishman's  Home March  23 Criterion 

The  Happy  Marriage April  12 Garrick 

(Doris  Keane  and  Edwin  Arden) 
The  Mollusc .  .June  7 Empire 

(Sir  Charles  Wyndham  and  Mary  Moore) 
Isadora      Duncan      in      Classical 

Dances August  18 Criterion 

Detective  Sparkes August  23 Garrick 

(Hattie  Williams) 

Ars^.ne  Lupin  (William  Courtnay)  .August  26 Lyceum 

The  Flag  Lieutenant August  30 Criterion 

(Bruce  McRae) 
The  Dollar  Princess September  6 . . .  Knickerbocker 

(Donald  Brian) 
Inconstant  George  (John  Drew). . .  .September  20.  .Empire 

Samson  (James  K.  Hackett) October  i Atlantic  City 

The  Harvest  Moon  (George  Nash)  .October  15.  . .  .Garrick 

Israel  (Constance  Collier) October  25.  . .  .Criterion 

A  Builder  of  Bridges October  26 .  .  .  .Hudson 

(Kyrle  Bellew) 

Penelope  (Marie  Tempest) December  13.  .Lyceum 

The  Bachelor's  Baby December  27  .  .  Criterion 

(Francis  Wilson) 
Fires  of  Fate December  28 .  .  Liberty 


ipiO 


Your  Humble  Servant January  3 Garrick 

(Otis  Skinner) 
The  Arcadians  (Julia  Sanderson) .  .January  17. .  .  .Liberty 
A  Lucky  Star  (William  Collier) .  .  January  18..  .  .  Hudson 

Mrs.  Dot  (Billie  Burke) January  24. .  ,  .Lyceum 

431 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

Mid-Channel  (Ethel  Barrymore).  .January  3 1 ....  Empire 
Caste April  25 Empire 

(Marie  Tempest,  Elsie  Ferguson,  G.  P.  Huntley,  Edwin  Arden) 
Love  Among  the  Lions August  8 Garrick 

(A.  E.  Matthews) 

The  Brass  Bottle August  11 Lyceum 

Our  Miss  Gibbs  (Pauline  Chase).  .August  29 Knickerbocker 

Smith  (John  Drew) September  5 . .  .  Empire 

Decorating  Clementine September  19..  Lyceum 

(Hattie  Williams  and  G.  P.  Huntley) 
A   Thief  i?i  the  Night September  30 . .  Atlantic  City 

(Marie  Tempest) 

The  Scandal  (Kyrle  Bellew) October  17....  Garrick 

Electricity  (Marie  Doro) October  31 .  .  .  .Lyceum 

Raffles  (Kyrle  Bellew) November  i .  .  .  Garrick 

The  Speckled  Band November  21..  Garrick 

(Edwin  Stevens) 
The  Foolish   Virgin December  19 .  .  Knickerbocker 

(Mrs.  Patrick  Campbell) 

Suzanne  (Billie  Burke) December  26 .  .  Lyceum 

United  States  Minister  Bedloe December  28.  .Trenton,  N.  J. 

(W.  H.  Crane) 


igii 


The  Philosopher  in  the  Apple  Or- 
chard (Billie  Burke) January  20. .  .  .Lyceum 

Chantecler  (Maude  Adams) January  23.  .  .  .Knickerbocker 

Sire  (Otis  Skinner) January  24. .  .  .Criterion 

The  Twelve-Pound   Look February  13...  Empire 

(Ethel  Barrymore) 

The  Zebra February  13. .  .Garrick 

William  Gillette  in  Repertory.  .  .  .March  13 Empire 

The  Siren  (Donald  Brian) August  28 Knickerbocker 

A  Single  Man  (John  Drew) September  4 . . .  Empire 

The  Mollusc  (Kyrle  Bellew) September  11 .  .Buffalo 

Passer s-By  (Richard  Bennett) ....  September  14.  .Criterion 

The  Other  Mary September  21..  Utica 

(Madame  Nazimova) 

The  Runaway  (Billie  Burke) October  9 Lyceum 

The  Butterfly  on  the  Wheel October  25.  .  .  .Atlantic  City 

(Marie  Doro) 

The  Marionettes December  3  .  .  .  Lyceum 

(Madame   Nazimova) 

The  Witness  for  the  Defense December  4 .  .  .  Empire 

(Ethel  Barrymore) 

432 


APPENDIX    B 


PLAY  DATE 

Kismet — with  Kllaw  &  Erlanger .  .  .  December  25  , 
(Otis  Skinner) 


THEATER 
Knickerbocker 


igi2 


A  Slice  of  Life January  29 ...  .  Empire 

(Ethel  Barrymore,  Hattie  WilHams,  and  John-  Barrymore) 

Lady  Patricia  (Mrs.  Fiske) February  26. .  .Empire 

Preserving  Mr.  Panmure February  27. .  .Lyceum 

(Gertrude  Elliott) 
Oliver  Twist March  25 Empire 

(Nat  C.  Goodwin,  Marie  Doro,  Constance  Collier,  and  Lyn  Harding) 
The  Girl  from  Montmartre August  5 Criterion 

(Hattie  Williams  and  Richard  Carle) 

The  Model  (William  Courtleigh) .  .August  31 Harris 

The  Perplexed  Husband September  2 . . .  Empire 

(John  Drew) 
Mind  the  Paint  Girl  (Billie  Burke) .  .  September  9 . . .  Lyceum 

Passer s-hy    (Charles   Cherry) September  19.  .Utica 

The  Attack  (John  Mason) September  23.  .Garrick 

Bella  Donna  (Madame  Nazimova) .  November  11..  Empire 
The  Conspiracy  (John  Emerson) . .  December  23  .  .  Garrick 


ms 


The  Spy  (Edith  Wynne  Mathison) .  January  13 
The  New  Secretary January  27 

(Marie  Doro  and  Charles  Cherry) 
The  Sunshine  Girl February  3 

(Julia  Sanderson) 

Liberty  Hall  (John  Mason) March  1 1 . 

The  Witness  for  the  Defense March  27. 

(Blanche  Bates) 

The  Amazons  (Billie  Burke) April  28. . . 

The  Doll  Girl August  23 . 

(Hattie  Williams  and  Richard  Carle) 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing September 

(John  Drew) 

Who's  Who  ?  (WilHam  Collier) September  15 

The  Marriage  Market September  22 

(Donald  Brian) 

The  Will  (John  Drew) September  29 

The  Tyranny  of  Tears  (John  Drew) .  September  29 

The   Younger  Generation September  29 

Half  an  Hour  (Grace  George) ....  September  29 
The    Dramatists    Get    What    They 

Want  (Williams  and  Carle).  .  .  .October  12.  .  , 

433 


.  Empire 
.  Lyceum 

.  Knickerbocker 

,  Empire 

.  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y. 

.  Empire 
,  Globe 


I . .  .  Empire 


.  Criterion 

.  Knickerbocker 

.  Empire 
.  Empire 
.  Lyceum 
.  Lyceum 

Globe 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

Indian  Summer   (John  Mason).  .  .October  27.  .  .  .Criterion 

Xante  (Ethel  Barrymore) October  28.  .  .  .Empire 

The  Land  of  Promise  (BilHe  Burke) .  December  25 .  .  Lyceum 


1914 


A  Little  Water  on  the  Side January  5 Hudson 

(William  Collier) 
The  Legend  of  Leonora January  5 Empire 

(Maude  Adams) 
Half  an  Hour  (Blanche  Bates) . .  .January  25. .  .  .Vaudeville 
The  Laughing  Husband February  2 . .  .  .  Knickerbocker 

(Curtice  Pounds) 

Jerry  (Billie  Burke) March  30 Lyceum 

A  Scrap  of  Paper May  11 Empire 

(Ethel  Barrymore  and  John  Drew) 
The  Girl  from   Utah August  24 Knickerbocker 

(Julia  Sanderson,  Donald  Brian,  and  Joseph  Cawthorn) 
A  Slice  of  Life September  6 . . .  Vaudeville 

(Richard  Carle  and  Hattie  Williams) 
The  Prodigal  Husband  (John  Drew) .  September  7 . . .  Empire 
The  Beautiful  Adventure September  7. .  .Lyceum 

(Charles  Cherry,  Ann  Murdock,  and  Mrs.  Thomas  Whiffen) 
The  Heart  of  a  Thief October  5 Hudson 

(Martha  Hedman) 

Rosalind  (Maude  Adams) October  12  .  . .  .Syracuse 

Diplomacy October  19 .  .  .  .Empire 

(WilHam  Gillette,  Blanche  Bates,  and  Marie  Doro) 


The  Ladies'    Shakespeare October  26.  . 

(Maude  Adams) 

The  Song  of  Songs October  29 .  . 

Outcast — with  Klaw  &  Erlanger .  .  .  November  2 . 

(Elsie  Ferguson) 

Driven  (Alexandra  Carlisle) December  14, 

The  Silent  Voice  (Otis  Skinner) .  .  December  29 . 


.Hamilton,  Ont. 

.Atlantic  City 
.  Lyceum 

.  Empire 
.  Liberty 


1915 


Rosemary  (John  Drew) January  1 1 Empire 

The  Shadow  (Ethel  Barrymore) .  .January  25 Empire 

A  Girl  of  To-day  (Ann  Murdock) ..  February  8 Washington 

A    Celebrated   Case— vfith.   David 

Belasco April  7 Empire 

(Nat    C.   Goodwin,    Ann    Murdock,  Otis    Skinner,    Helen    Ware, 
Florence  Reed,  and  Robert  Warwick) 

434 


APPENDIX    B 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

The  Hyphen April  19 Knickerbocker 

(W.  H.  Thompson  and  Gail  Kane) 

The  following  productions  were  arranged  by  Charles  Froh- 
man  before  he  sailed  on  the  Lusitania  and  were  staged,  just 
as  he  planned  them,  after  his  death: 

The    Duke    of    Killiecrankie    and 

Rosalind  (Marie  Tempest) ...  September  6...  Lyceum 

Grumpy  (Cyril  Maude) September  13.  .Empire 

Sherlock  Holmes  (William  Gillette) .  October  11....  Empire 
Our  Mrs.  McChesney October  19.  .  .  .Lyceum 

(Ethel  Barrymore) 
Secret  Service  (William  Gillette) . . .  November  8 . .  .  Empire 

The  Chief  (John  Drew) November  22 . .  Empire 

Peter  Pan  (Maude  Adams) December  22  .  .  Empire 

Cock  0'  the  Walk  (Otis  Skinner) .  .  December  27  .  .  Cohan 

IQ16 

Sibyl January  10. .  .  . Liberty 

(Julia  Sanderson,  Donald  Brian,  and  Joseph  Cawthorn) 

The  Little  Minister January  11....  Empire 

(Maude  Adams) 
Margaret    Schiller — with    Klaw    & 

Erlanger — (Elsie  Ferguson) January  31 . .  .  .New  Amsterdam 

The  Heart  of  Wetona — with  David 
Belasco February  29 . . .  Lyceum 


II 


PRODUCTIONS   IN  ENGLAND 


The  following  is  the  complete  list  of  productions  made  by 
Charles  Frohman  in  England,  either  alone  or  in  collaboration 
with  other  managers,  such  as  the  Gattis,  George  Edwardes, 
Seymour  Hicks,  Sir  Charles  Wyndham,  David  Belasco,  and 
Arthur  Bourchier: 

435 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 


i8g2 


PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

The  Lost  Paradise December  22 .  .  Adelphi 


1896 


A  Night  Out April  29 Vaudeville 


1897 


My  Friend  the  Prince February  13. .  .Garrick 

Secret  Service  (William  Gillette). .  .May  15 Adelphi 

Never  Again October  11....  Vaudeville 


1898 


The  Heart  of  Maryland April  8 Adelphi 

(Mrs.  Leslie  Carter) 

Too  Much  Johnson April  19 Garrick 

Sue June  10 Garrick 

Adventures  of  Lady   Ursula October  11 .  .  .  .Duke  of  York's 

On  and  Off December  i .  . .  Vaudeville 


1899 


My  Daughter-in-Law September  27.  .Criterion 

The  Christian October  16 ...  .  Duke  of  York's 

Miss  Hobbs December  18 .  .  Duke  of  York's 


1900 


The  Masked  Ball January  6 Criterion 

Zaza  (Mrs.  Leslie  Carter) April  16 Garrick 

Madame  Butterfly April  28 Duke  of  York's 

Kitty  Grey September  7 . . .  Apollo 

Self  and  Lady September  19.  .Vaudeville 

The  Lackey's    Carnival September  28.  .Duke  of  York's 

The  Swashbuckler November  17.  .Duke  of  York's 

Alice  in  Wonderland December  19.  .Vaudeville 

436 


APPENDIX    B 


igoi 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

The  Girl  from  Up  TAere  (Edna  May)  April  23 Duke  of  York's 

Sweet  and  Twenty     April  24 Vaudeville 

Sherlock  Holmes September  9     .  Lyceum 

Are   You  a  Mason? September  12     Shaftesbury 

Bluebell  in  Fairyland December  8 .  . .  Vaudeville 


ig02 


The  Twin  Sister January  i Duke  of  York's 

The  Girl  from  Maxim's March  20 Criterion 

All  on  Account  of  Eliza April  3 Shaftesbury 

Three  Little  Maids  (Edna  May).  .May  10 Apollo 

The  Marriage  of  Kitty August  19 Duke  of  York's 

Quality  Street September  17..  Vaudeville 


1903 


The  School  Girl  (Edna  May) May  9 Duke  of  York's 

Billy's  Little  Love  Affair September  2. .  .Criterion 

Little  Mary September  24.  .Wyndham's 

Letty October  8 Duke  of  York's 

The  Cherry  Girl December  21..  Vaudeville 

Madame  Sherry December  23  .  .  Apollo 


1904 


Love  in  a  Cottage January  27. .  .  .Terry's 

Captain  Dieppe February  15. .  . Duke  of  York's 

The  Duke  of  Killiecrankie January  20. .  .  . Criterion 

The  Rich  Mrs.  Repton April  20 Duke  of  York's 

Cynthia May  16 Wyndham's 

Merely  Mary  Ann September  8. .  .Duke  of  York's 

The  Catch  of  the  Season September  9 . . .  Vaudeville 

The  Wife  Without  a  Smile October  12 Wyndham's 

The  Freedom  of  Suzanne November  15.  .Criterion 

Peter  Pan December  27 .  .  Duke  of  York's 


J90S 


The  Lady  of  Leeds February  9 . . . .  Wyndham's 

Alice  Sit  By  The  Fire April  5 Duke  of  York's 

437 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 


DATE 


THEATER 


PLAY 

Leah  Kleschna May  2 New 

The  Dictator  (William  Collier) May  3 Comedy 

Clarice September  13 . .  Duke  of  York's 

On  the  Quiet  (William  Collier)...  .September  2 7.. Comedy 
The  Mountain  Climber November  21..  Comedy 


1906 


The   Alabaster   Staircase February  21 . .  .Comedy 

All  of  a  Sudden  Peggy February  27. .  .Duke  of  York's 

The  Beauty  of  Bath March  19 Aldwych 

Punch  and  Josephine April   5 Comedy 

The  Belle  of  Mayfair  (Edna  May) .  April  11 Vaudeville 

Fascinating  Mr.    Vanderoelt April  26 Garrick 

Raffles May  12 Comedy 

The  Lion  and  the  Mouse May  22 Duke  of  York's 

Toddles December  3 .  .  .  Duke  of  York's 


1907 


Nelly  Neil  (Edna  May) January  10..  .  .Aldwych 

My  Darling March  2 Hicks' 

The  Great  Conspiracy March  4 Duke  of  York's 

The  Truth April  6 Comedy 

Brewster's  Millions May  i Hicks' 

The  Hypocrites August  27 Hicks' 

The  Barrier October  10.  .  .  . Comedy 

Miquette October  26 ...  .  Duke  of  York's 

A  ngela December  4 .  .  .  Comedy 


igo8 


Lady  Barbarity February  27. . .  Comedy 

The  Admirable  Crichton March  2 Duke  of  York's 

A    Waltz  Dream March  7 Hicks' 

Mrs.  Dot April  27 Comedy 

What  Every  Woman  Kjwws September  3 . . .  Duke  of  York's 

Paid  in  Full September  26.  .Aldwych 

Sir  Anthony November  28. .  Wyndham's 


1909 


Penelope January  9 Comedy 

Samson February  3 . .  .  .  Garrick 

438 


APPENDIX    B 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

The  Dashing  Little  Duke February  17. .  .Hicks' 

Strife March  29 Duke  of  York's 

Bevis April  i Haymarket 

Love  Watches Tvlay  11 Haymarket 

A  rsene  Lupin August  30 Duke  of  York's 

Madame  X September  i . . .  Globe 

The  Great  Divide September  15..  Adelphi 

Smith September  30 . .  Comedy 

A   Servant  in  the  House October  25 ... .  Adelphi 

Great  Mrs.  Alloway November  i .  .  .Globe 


igio 


Justice February  21 . . .  Duke  of  York's 

Misalliance February  23. .  . Duke  of  York's 

The  Tenth  Man February  24. .  .Globe 

Old  Friends March  i Duke  of  York's 

The  Sentimentalists March  i Duke  of  York's 

Madras  House Alarch  9 Duke  of  York's 

Trelawney  of  the  Wells April  5 Duke  of  York's 

The  Twelve-Pound   Look May  3 Duke  of  York's 

Helena's  Path I\lay  3 Duke  of  York's 

Parasites May  5 Garrick 

Chains May  17 Duke  of  York's 

Alias  Jimmy  Valentine June  7 Comedy 

A  Slice  of  Life June  7 Duke  of  York's 

A  Bolt  from  the  Blue September  6. .  .Duke  of  York's 

A   Woman's  Way September  14.  .Comedy 

Grace October  15 ...  .  Duke  of  York's 

Decorating  Clementine November  28.  .Globe 


igii 

Preserving  Mr.  Panmure January  19. .  .  .Comedy 

Loaves  and  Fishes February  24. .  . Duke  of  York's 

The  Concert August  28 Duke  of  York's 

Dad November  4 . .  .  Playhouse 


igi2        > 

Mi7id  the  Paint  Girl February  17. .  . Duke  of  York's 

The  Amazons June  14 Duke  of  York's 

Rosalind October  14 ... .  Duke  of  York's 

439 


CHARLES    FROHMAN 

PLAY  DATE  THEATER 

Widow  of  Wasdale  Head October  14.  .  .  .Duke  of  York's 

Overruled October  14 ...  .  Duke  of  York's 

The  Adored  One September  4. . .  Duke  of  York's 

The  Will September  4. . .  Duke  of  York's 

Years  of  Discretion September  8 . . .  Globe 

1914 

The  Land  of  Promise February  28. .  .Duke  of  York's 

The  Little  Minister September  3 . . .  Duke  of  York's 

Rosy  Rapture March  22 Duke  of  York's 

The  New  Word March  22 Duke  of  York's 


III 


Charles  Frohman's  productions  in  Paris  \vere  these: 

Secret  Service May  25,  1900.  .Theater  Renaissance 

Peter  Pan June  i,  1909. .  .Vaudeville 

Peter  Pan June  2,  1910. .  .Vaudeville 


THE   END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


OCT  2  4  1960 

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